Of Happiness
by Vinividivinci
Summary: Another continuation of Blue Bird. How do Jane and Lisbon begin their new life together? What obstacles do they have to overcome and will they find happiness or will the past get in the way?
1. Chapter 1

**_This is my first The Mentalist fic. I just discovered the show this summer and watched all 6 seasons in a few weeks. I always seem to find shows just as they are starting their last season (sigh). Anyway, here's a small post 'Blue Bird' fic (like the hundreds of others). I couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoy and please review if you'd like more chapters. Thanks,_**

**_Oh - and of course I don't own anything ... only original characters are mine._**

After their kiss neither seemed sure of what to say or do. Jane looked unusually sober and uncharacteristically unsure. Teresa felt a strange mixture of happiness and relief and pure panic. Things had just changed, - drastically – and she felt completely out of control of the situation.

Not that being out of control was unusual around Jane. In fact, if she were honest – which she usually was – she would admit that the norm was feeling out of control, of him and of whatever situation they were in. This, however, was different. This time she could tell that Jane too felt the same – and he didn't know quite how to handle that.

Hah! The master of control – Patrick Jane – looking adorably confused and unsure of himself. Suddenly Lisbon felt better. She realized that if he had looked his usual cocky, confident self she might have begun to doubt his words. But this – no – he had been honest with her and it clearly frightened him, even though the smile he'd given, and the kiss, had been ones of pure joy.

"So." she said softly, keenly aware of the guard in the other room.

"So?" he looked at her, the twinkle still there, even through the look of hesitation on his face.

"Any idea when you can get out of here?" she asked calmly, bringing them both back to the present situation.

He shrugged. "No, although I don't think they're very happy with me."

"You think?" she raised her brows. "Jane, you jumped over a security fence and forced your way onto a passenger plane. Of _course_ they're not happy with you. It's a good thing they didn't shoot you."

Suddenly, his smile – his beautiful, heart-wrenching – _conniving_ – smile blossomed. "Nah, they wouldn't do that. And anyway, it was worth it."

"It was?" she smiled in return.

"Absolutely." They grinned at one another for a few more seconds, both caught up in the strongly felt, but newly admitted feelings for one another. "Forcing my way onto a plane is small price to pay for the woman I love."

"I can't believe I'm hearing that from you", she told him softly, gratefully. "But please, don't do something like that again."

"No? Not even on our anniversary?"

She looked startled at that and he looked slightly embarrassed. "I mean the anniversary of this – today – not – " he grinned again and shrugged, knowing it was pointless to try and dig his way out of this one.

"Oh – no, not even then. You know", she said after a few seconds, "it would have been easier to tell me all this a few days ago and spare yourself _this", _she looked around the sparse room.

"Yeah", he glanced down, his hands moving restlessly. "I just – I couldn't." He looked at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry", he said softly.

"No, it's okay. I mean, I'd rather you didn't get into trouble, but the fact is, it wouldn't have been _you_ if you'd done it the normal, low-key way. Just telling me over dinner wouldn't have been -"

"What?"

"The Patrick Jane way", she reached out and touched his hand. She drew it back when the guard glared.

"Well, I _planned_ to tell you over dinner, but first Abbott and Cho decided to join us and then you threw a glass of water in my face."

"You deserved it."

"Yeah", he sighed. "I did. I'm sorry Teresa. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just – I was – it was - hard." He looked uncomfortable at that admission and she recognized how difficult it was for him to be so honest about his feelings.

She opened her mouth to ask him about what frightened him. She thought she understood, but knew she needed to be sure. They'd known each other for a lot of years, but this was new territory and if it was going to work they'd both have to open up and be honest with one another.

Unfortunately, before she had a chance to speak, the door opened. A man wearing a TSA uniform entered, and from his expression things didn't look good.

"Patrick Jane", he announced in a deep and forboding voice.

"Uh, that's me", Jane looked up at him and then awkwardly pushed himself to his feet – or actually to his good foot. He turned and faced the officer.

"I'm Supervisory Officer Moretti, from the TSA. Special Agent Abbott explained the circumstances and asked that we let you go with a warning. I agreed – _this time_, because I value our relationship with the FBI. But if you _ever_ do anything like this again, I will make sure that you will be charged. What you did was incredibly thoughtless and stupid Mr. Jane, and could have resulted in someone, yourself included, getting hurt."

Teresa looked nervously at Jane, praying that for once he'd say the smart thing. With a small glance of reassurance to her he turned to the TSA agent.

"Officer, I truly am sorry and promise I will _never_ do that again. And please, convey my apologies to the flight crew. I – uh – wasn't thinking straight."

Lisbon raised her eyebrow at that but didn't say a word, relieved at Jane's response. Now, if only Moretti would leave quickly, before Patrick's sense of humor and cutting wit could escape.

"No, you obviously weren't. I'll have Hanson come in with the paperwork for you to sign and once that's done you can leave. You are, however, on a thirty-day no fly list. You won't be able to fly into or out of any commercial airline for the next month. That's just to remind you that what you did was both illegal and irresponsible."

"I know – and thank you for being so understanding."

Moretti stared at him for a moment and then his face relaxed slightly. "I hope that things work out for the both of you." He turned to Lisbon. "He certainly took some risks to tell you how he feels."

"I know", she smiled, although her cheeks grew warm.

"Well, I hope you can keep him under control. Although somehow I think that'll be a challenge!'

"Oh, it is", she agreed. With a huge grin she turned to Jane. "But he's worth it."

"So, I'm worth it am I?" Jane asked her after the TSA agent had left, his confidence returning.

"Mmm", she replied. "Maybe. Although you'd better be on your best behavior from now on." She rolled her eyes at his quick agreement, knowing it wasn't going to happen.

It only took a few more minutes and they were ready to leave. The problem was, of course, that Jane couldn't really walk. His ankle had swelled up and was beginning to hurt. Teresa turned to Agent Hanson, the one who had told them to stop kissing and who was still looking pissed off. "Uh, is there anyway to get him some crutches?"

The agent sighed, looking completely disgruntled at the whole situation. "Maybe, but it'll most likely be a wheelchair. Wait here."

In the end he found a pair of crutches that had been unclaimed in the Lost and Found and gave them to Jane, clearly hoping to rid himself of this bothersome troublemaker as quickly as possible.

Abbott was waiting for them outside the security area. "Jane, Lisbon", he said, looking completely poker-faced. "Everything get sorted out?"

"Yes. Thank you Sir", Lisbon said, giving him a smile. "The Agent told us you pulled some strings."

"No real string-pulling – I just explained the situation and he agreed to let Jane go."

Jane looked at him speculatively. "Uh – what was the explanation?"

Abbott just grinned and held out his hand, pointing to the door. "Let's get out of here. I'll take you back to the hotel and then I have to be back here to catch a flight to Austin after lunch." He glanced over at Jane. "You're gonna stay here today and rest that foot. I'm afraid you'll have to take the bus or train back. No flying for you for 30 days."

Jane grimaced but nodded. "Thank you, by the way – for getting me out of here and for the car." He frowned. "Uh, how did you get here?"

"Since you took my car? I took a cab but I got the keys back from Moretti. Come on, let's go."

"Uh Sir – what about me?" Lisbon suddenly realized that officially she no longer worked for Abbott. Crap, she was going to have to ask for her job back. And then she had to call DC and tell them she wasn't going to take the job there after all. That was going to be embarrassing, although not as painful as the call to Pike was going to be.

"You should stay here too – look after Jane, keep him out of trouble." He frowned, "If that's even possible. You can either fly back tomorrow, or if you're feeling particularly long-suffering, you can come back with him on the bus or train."

"Thank you Sir. Uh, about my job -"

"I haven't sent in the paperwork Teresa, so if you want it back just say the word. You will have to call DC and let them know though. I'm afraid they're not going to be happy."

"No, I'm sure they won't. Still – thank you Sir. I would like to stay."

By this time they'd reached the car and Abbott helped Jane get in the back. It was only when they were on the road that Abbott broached the elephant in the room. "So, everything work out?" He glanced in the rear view mirror to see Jane looking out the window, a small smile on his face.

"Yes", Lisbon answered quietly, also glancing back. "Yes, everything worked out just fine."

"Good. Took him long enough."

She glanced at her boss, startled, and suddenly realized that he'd known how they felt all along. She didn't know whether to feel relieved, pleased or embarrassed. Probably all three if she was being honest.

"Cho was surprised", Abbott told her with a grin. "He thought you were like 'brother and sister'. I can't believe that he didn't figure it out."

"Well, to be fair, Jane is a master at hiding his true feelings."

"Not where you're concerned", Abbott disagreed. "I figured it out months ago. I'm just glad _you_ both finally figured it out." He glanced again in the rear view mirror and then spoke softly. "He deserves happiness."

Jane was practically asleep in the back seat. He'd spent the night in a small room at the airport, after a very emotional few days and the scene he'd created on the plane. Still, as tired as he was, he couldn't help but feel the warm glow that was slowly spreading through him. He still couldn't believe that she'd stayed – that she'd told him she loved him (or at least that she felt the same as him, which was what she meant). He was pretty sure the warm feeling was happiness, although it had been so long he wasn't quite sure. Not sure and absolutely terrified. He could so easily mess this up and if he did – he didn't know if he'd survive. He had to make sure that Teresa never regretted her decision, that he deserved her love, that he would do everything in his power to make her happy.

God – he was terrified.

"We're here", Lisbon's soft voice woke him up and he blinked and licked his lips.

His room was now a crime scene so the hotel assigned him another one. He was so tired it didn't dawn on him that Teresa no longer had a room as she'd checked out yesterday. They said goodbye to Abbott and then made their way slowly to Jane's new room, the hotel clerk promising his things would be moved as soon as the police said it was okay.

As soon as Jane arrived he hopped over to the bed and collapsed. He watched Lisbon out of bleary eyes. "You must be tired too", he said softly.

"Mmm hmm", she yawned. "But I don't have a bed."

"Share mine", he told her, scooting over and patting the bed. At her surprised look he suddenly woke up. "Uh – I just meant – just to sleep. We're both tired and I promise I won't try anything." His eyes drifted shut. "Really", he said, his voice almost disappearing.

It was only after he felt her lie down next to him that he spoke again. "At least not now."

She giggled and closed her eyes. She was tired too and talking – and anything else – could wait. But that didn't mean they had to act like nothing more than friends. With a decisive gleam in her eye, she sidled over until she was right next to Jane.

He blinked a couple of times and then grinned. Turning on his side he reached out and pulled Teresa right up against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and burrowed his head in her neck. "Go to sleep", he told her softly. "Love you."

"Love you too."


	2. Of Faith and Fantasies

_**I'm sorry if this is OOC – it's tough to write Jane as open and confiding, because he's definitely not. However, I felt for their relationship to succeed there had to be the beginnings of trust and openness – hence this chapter. Also, there was no hint in the series that Jane ever slept with anyone other than Lorelei so I liked the idea of exploring that. **_

_**Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed. Feedback is greatly appreciated and encourages quick chapter updates. On with the show ….**_

She breathed in deeply, feeling strangely relaxed and at peace. Still in the fog of sleep she couldn't quite figure out why she felt so good. All she knew was that it was a long time since she'd felt so calm and she wanted to simply lie there and enjoy it.

Soon, however, something impinged on her semi-conscious state. It wasn't anything bad, rather something pleasant, something _safe._ She took in another deep breath and realized _that's_ what it was – the scent. It was something she recognized, that she knew really well. It was Jane.

Her breath caught. _Jane._ It all came rushing back and her eyes popped open, his face only inches from hers. Yes, it was he and he was lying curled up next to her, his arm thrown across her waist.

She couldn't help it when she saw him beside her. She smiled. He was here, with her and he _loved_ her. He'd said it in front of a whole plane-load of people and this time hadn't taken it back or tried to cover it up. She closed her eyes again and took another deep breath. Yes, there it was – that same scent. She couldn't quite describe it – it's not as if he wore cologne or even anything discernable. It was just something she'd grown used to over the years and now, as she breathed him in, she realized that it had come to mean the world to her.

She opened her eyes again, this time more slowly, and simply looked at the man asleep - miraculously in her arms. She'd seen Jane sleeping dozens, in fact more like _hundreds_ of times over the years, but never like this. He still looked tired, the dark circles giving evidence to his lack of sleep, but he no longer looked tense or as if he held a world of guilt on his shoulders.

No – he was deeply, restfully asleep. His entire body was relaxed, his mouth even hanging open a bit and his breath slow and deep and steady. She couldn't help grinning slightly. Who would have thought she'd ever see him like this? She felt a warm glow, a sense of satisfaction because she knew she was responsible. He was fast asleep; relaxed because he knew he was safe in her arms.

She leaned over and gently and so softly he wouldn't notice kissed his brow. She loved him so much.

Lisbon continued to look at the man she knew so well and yet in some ways not at all, even after all these years. In many ways he was still a mystery to her, but one she hoped to begin to figure out. She just prayed he'd let her.

Stopping that train of thought, refusing to let serious thoughts enter her mind right now she instead relaxed and let herself simply take him in. After a few seconds of staring at his face, without having to worry about anyone catching her or thinking anything of it, she allowed her eyes to roam more freely. He was a good looking man, by anyone's standards and for once she could damn well just admit it – and admit that she was attracted to him. Hell, _attracted_? She was crazy about him, all of him, although she had to admit that there were certain things that had fueled her dreams for many years.

She loved his mouth and his smile and grinned a little when she thought of the kiss that had touched _that_ particular fantasy. She was definitely looking forward to more – many, many more of those. One other fantasy had, as yet, to be fulfilled and, without thinking, she reached out her hand.

His hair was beautiful and she had long ago lost count of the number of times she'd dreamed about being able to put her fingers through it, stroking the golden curls. No man should have hair like this, she thought. It was too beautiful and _way_ too tempting.

But he had told her he loved her and he wouldn't mind, would he? With a smirk and a shrug she softly put her hand down on top of his head – gently – and began to thread her fingers through the curls. She allowed her eyes to drift closed and enjoyed the moment.

His breathing didn't change and he remained deeply asleep. It was only then that she realized how exhausted he must have truly been. She wondered briefly how often, over the last twelve years, he'd gotten a full night's sleep. She frowned at herself and pulled her hand back. What was she thinking? He needed to sleep and she was going to wake him up.

"Don't stop", he sighed softly, his eyes still closed. "Feels good."

After a brief pause she resumed the stroking. He sighed and moved his head slightly towards her, clearly enjoying the caress. A moment later and she was sure he was back to sleep, a soft snore leaving his mouth.

She continued for a few more moments and then gave a small sigh of her own. As wonderful as this was, she knew she needed to make a call. It wasn't fair to leave it any longer. Carefully she pulled herself away from Patrick and slowly stood up. She gave one last look and with a small smile blew him a kiss. "I'll be back soon", she whispered.

Glancing at her watch she saw the time was just a few minutes after 1:00 o'clock. They'd been asleep for almost four hours and it looked like Jane was out for the count. She grabbed her cell and quietly made her way out to the small balcony. Dreading what she was about to do, she hit speed dial.

"_Hi Teresa!"_ Marcus' happy voice greeted her. "_Everything okay?"_

She'd texted him just after she'd gotten off the airplane last night, telling him simply that something had come up and that she couldn't make the flight.

"Hi Marcus. Uh – yeah, everything's fine."

"_So, I'm assuming you solved the case? Was it one of Jane's crazy plans?"_

Oh God! She realized suddenly that she had absolutely no idea what had happened with the case. She'd meant to ask, when she heard Abbott mention that Jane's room was a crime scene, but she'd been too tired to really care. Since Marcus obviously believed she'd been held up because of it, this was rather awkward.

"Oh, you know Jane", was all she answered. "Uh look Marcus – what are you doing right now? Are you busy?"

"_No, not really. I was just going to grab some lunch. Hey, can you make it here today? I can hardly wait to see you and I'm excited about showing you the apartment."_

Damn it to hell! She closed her eyes, wanting to groan. She'd felt bad – no _awful_ before. Now she felt worse. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about that, but – are you alone?"

There was a moment's silence and then his voice came back on, sounding suddenly cautious. "_Hold on a minute."_ She heard walking and then a door open and close. "_Okay, I'm alone. What's going on Teresa?"_

"I'm so sorry Marcus, but I'm not going to be coming to DC."

There was another pause. "_I'm assuming you mean 'ever'?"_

"I – look, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought we could have a great life together and you're a wonderful man, it's just -"

"_Teresa!" he interrupted impatiently. "Cut the crap. I don't need a bunch of platitude's telling me how wonderful I am. What's going on?"_

She took a deep breath. "It's over Marcus. I'm sorry, but I have to break things off. And I know it sounds cliché'd but it really isn't your fault – it's mine."

"_I actually suspect it's more like Jane's fault." _After a pause he continued. "_It was him, wasn't it? He finally got the balls to tell you how he feels and you fell right into his arms."_

Since it was close enough to the truth not to matter, she had trouble answering. After a moment however, she continued. "It's not his fault Marcus. It's mine. I thought – I really _wanted_ things to work out but – it wouldn't be fair to you. You need someone who's -"

" – _not in love with another man. Yeah, you're right." _After a few more seconds of silence he laughed softly. "_Casablanca huh?"_

She thought back to that night and wanted to cry, but instead just sniffed. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. I am so sorry."

"_I know", _he sighed_. "Just my luck. Well, tell Patrick that I wish him the best and that he's a very lucky man. You can also tell him not to screw this up because I'll be down in a second if he does."_

"I'll tell him", she said, softly, a hitch in her voice. "Thank you for everything Marcus. I _do_ wish you the best and hope you meet someone wonderful."

"_So do I Teresa. And oh – good luck. I'm thinking you're going to need it!"_

She clicked off the phone and slowly dropped her arm. The tears began to flow down her cheeks. She attempted to scrub them away but they kept coming faster than she could wipe them off.

She didn't turn when she heard the sliding door open and felt him move to her side.

"You okay?" he asked gently. He didn't touch her, but simply stood there, looking out towards the ocean, his hands loosely holding on to the railing.

She sniffed but didn't reply. Instead she stole a glance at him – to see his calm, expressionless face. It was the face he'd worn for years – the one that gave nothing away, that carefully hid all his feelings under an air of calm and certainty.

Except she knew he was feeling neither calm _nor_ certain. It was strange – he had only admitted his feelings to her a few short hours ago but suddenly, she could read him like an open book. His calm exterior hid real fear – fear that she had changed her mind, that Marcus had convinced her to go to Washington and be with him. For the first time it became blindingly clear how little confidence Patrick had in himself when it came to her. No wonder he'd been so frightened to tell her how he felt.

"No", she finally answered softly. "I'm not okay." She could feel him tense and knew this had to be killing him, but also knew he'd do anything for her. She felt a surge of gratitude for this man – and a realization of the power she had over him. She had to be so careful not to hurt him. "I'm not okay. I just hurt a good and decent man and I _really_, _really_ need you to put your arms around me and hold me right now." She turned towards him, the tears still trailing down her face.

With a small grimace – of relief and of love – he moved towards her and enveloped her in his arms. "I'm so sorry love. I know it must have been hard. He is a good guy."

"He told me to tell you you're lucky", she hiccupped.

"He's right, I am."

"I hated hurting him Patrick", she said softly. "He didn't deserve it."

"You didn't intend to Lisbon", he told her. "I know it doesn't mean anything, not yet, not now, but it would have been much worse if you'd let it go farther."

"I know", she sighed. "But I shouldn't have even let it go this far. I knew I didn't really love him like he deserved."

When he didn't speak Teresa pulled her head back and looked at him. He was wearing that blank face again, the one that told her something was bothering him. She sighed and leaned her head onto his chest. "But you're wondering why I did, aren't you?"

"It doesn't matter Teresa, as long as know what you want now."

"Of course I know what I want, but I also want you to understand. I'm – when you came back into my life after being gone for those two years I was so happy. Suddenly you were free – free of Red John – and I hoped that – well, you know. But when nothing happened, when it didn't look like you wanted anything more than friendship I realized that if I wanted a life beyond work I was going to have to let go of you. I told myself that Marcus was a good man and that eventually I'd think of you as a friend, nothing more. But it didn't work. The closer I got to leaving, the less I wanted to go. But you still didn't say anything and I didn't think you cared for me like that."

"I thought I was pretty obvious. Abbott obviously knew", he said holding her more tightly.

"Well, it _was_ obvious to me that you wanted to be obnoxious and were trying really hard not to be – but that didn't necessarily mean you loved me. Patrick, I almost left!"

"I know", he sighed and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry Teresa. I'm an idiot. But you have to admit that in the end I was pretty open about it."

She choked and buried her head in his chest. "Pretty open? Hell, you told an entire plane full of people. I've never been so embarrassed."

"Really?" he said, sounding rather hurt.

"Or so charmed", she said gently. "It meant everything Patrick – you'll never know how much. And the lady next to me told me that all the women on the plane were jealous!"

At that he put his finger under her chin and lifted her head. Looking into her eyes for a moment he then leaned down and gently touched her lips with his. The kiss was soft and caring, full of neither passion nor longing – but simply a way to show her how much he loved her and that he would always take care of her.

They stood there quietly, holding one another and allowing the reality of their love to wash over them. It was Patrick who first broke the silence.

"I'm hungry", he announced. "And I want a tea."

"Of course you do", his love answered, calmly. "Room service or do you want to go out?"

"Hmm? Stay in a hotel room with a gorgeous woman or hobble out on crutches with a bunch of paunchy middle-aged tourists? Let me think a moment."

"Room service it is", she grinned. "You realize Abbott isn't going to pay for all this."

Jane shrugged. "I got it."

"But can you afford it?" Teresa knew he didn't make a lot of money working for the FBI. She guessed they figured they could be cheap since he didn't have a choice in working for them.

"Of course I can", he answered indignantly and he made his way slowly back into the room. He grabbed the crutches, which were just inside the balcony door and hobbled back towards the bed. "I had some savings you know."

"Savings? But weren't all your things seized by the government?"

"Yes, but I wasn't convicted of anything so they had to release everything when I got back. But that's not what I meant. I also had savings off-shore."

At her raised eyebrows he rolled his eyes. "All perfectly legal Lisbon. Just a way to save on taxes. I didn't spend much of it before because I really didn't need anything. Come on, let's order."

Once the order was placed Jane sat back on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. He watched Teresa who was wandering around the small room. She suddenly turned to face him.

"What about your house?" she asked carefully, not sure if that was a taboo subject or not.

"My house? Uh, it's still there, although I almost lost it because of the taxes. I couldn't really pay them when I was on the island. Anyway, I managed to work it out only because the bank figured it'd be hard to sell anyway."

At Lisbon's confused look he took a deep breath and let it out "No one wants to buy a house where people were murdered. Not a good selling point."

"Oh. I – so what do you plan to do with it?"

Jane sighed again and leant back, not really wanting to talk about his house. Instead he wanted Lisbon to come and sit beside him and put her fingers through his hair like before. No one had done that since – he closed his eyes – since Angela, and he loved it. "I don't know", he told her. "Haven't really thought about it. Teresa, come and sit down. You're making me nervous."

"Really?" she looked at him in surprise. It was his sudden, irresistible smile that had her relaxing. "Sorry – this is just rather – new." She climbed onto the bed and sat beside him. "I still can't believe we're here."

"In bed?"

"Yes – no – I mean _here_ – at this point. It's rather ridiculous isn't it? We've known one another for twelve years and only now are we -"

"In bed together?"

She snorted. "Yeah – sitting up waiting for room service."

"Why, you'd rather be doing something else?" he asked mischievously.

"Damn right I would", she informed him. Before he'd even had a chance to respond she turned and was kissing him. And this kiss _was_ passionate and _was_ full of longing and for once he was wishing that someone wasn't about to come and interrupt them with dinner.

He was pretty sure the server knew _exactly_ what they'd been doing before he got there with the meal cart. Jane figured his hair was probably a mess, and his shirt was hanging out of his pants. Besides that, he knew his mouth must have had a 'just kissed' look because – hell – she was some kisser.

"Still hungry?" she asked, peeking under the covers on the plates.

"Starving", he nodded.

"Here", she handed him a plate with a little bit of everything on it and then climbed on the bed with her own plate. "Mmm – delicious", she muttered through the piece of bread in her mouth.

Rather than eating, he was staring at that mouth of hers – that wonderful, adorable mouth that he wanted to kiss again and again. He was starving for her and was ready to put aside his plate.

"I thought you were hungry?" she said, teasing him.

"Oh, I am Teresa, I am."

She blushed – she couldn't help it. This was such a weird situation – like nothing she'd experienced with any man. But then again, this _was_ Jane she was talking about. She grinned and took another bite. "It's good."

"Mmm", he agreed, although he continued to watch her.

He wasn't quite sure how to handle things. In fact, as must as he desired her – and he really, really did – he was also nervous as hell. He knew his teammates, at least the CBI ones, thought he'd been quite the ladies' man before his wife. They took his actions after he'd nearly drowned as being evidence of what he'd been like before Angela. The truth was – he had never been that man. Oh, he'd been smooth and arrogant and able to con just about anyone, but he'd never been a player and he didn't quite know how to let Lisbon know that.

"Here, let me take your plate. You want more?" she asked.

"No – no I'm fine, thanks."

"Good." After she'd put all the dishes on the cart she climbed back onto the bed and regarded him calmly. "So – what now?"

He sighed and reached for her, pulling her closer to him so that her head was resting on her shoulder. "I don't know", he admitted. "All I know is that I love you and I want this to work."

"If it's going to work then we're going to need to be honest with one another", she told him.

"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "It – may be hard for me, you know that don't you? It's not that I don't want to but –"

"Old habits?"

"Mmm hmm", he gave a lopsided grin. "I'm afraid I'm too used to not sharing things with others."

"You were too afraid of being hurt again", she said softly. It wasn't a question.

He shrugged but didn't disagree. "But I want to change and I know I can trust you – it's just – please be patient."

"Jane, I've stuck around for twelve years. I think I can do patient."

He chuckled softly and kissed her. "I guess you can."

"I'm also getting better at reading you."

"You are?" He sat up and looked down at her in surprise – whether real or feigned she wasn't _quite_ sure.

"Yup – I can read your mind you know. I have psychic powers."

"Right!" he gave her his full-watt smile. "So what am I thinking right now?"

"That you'd really rather be kissing me than talking."

He leaned forward slowly. "Well, what do you know. You _are_ psychic!"

It was awhile later – just as things were getting quite heated, that he pulled away. She looked at him in confusion, not quite sure what was wrong, but sensing there was something. Trying to slow her breathing – and focus on something other than the fact that she wanted to continue what they were doing – she forced herself to sit back. "What's wrong Patrick?"

He looked down – more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him. Something definitely was wrong.

"Uh – nothing. It's just – you know that honesty we were talking about?"

"Yeah", she frowned in confusion.

"Well, I need to tell you something because I think you may have the wrong idea about me."

"O –kay", she said slowly, forcing herself to sit back against the headboard, wondering where this was going.

"You remember that time when I almost drowned and woke up and couldn't remember anything?"

"Of course."

"And I came across as kind of -"

" – a jerk?"

He grinned. "Well, I guess you could put it that way. Remember the first thing I asked you."

"Yeah, you wanted to know if we were sleeping together."

"Right – well, I think _you_ think that that's what I was like before – before Angela."

"And you weren't?" she asked, confused as to where this was going.

"No", he sighed and stopped. He then swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "I – did I ever tell you about Angela?"

"No – not really."

He nodded, knowing that was the case. It was only recently that he could really even think about his wife, let alone talk about her. But if he was going to make this work with Teresa he had to let her in on his life. It was going to be hard but he knew it was vital.

"She was carny, just like me", he told her softly, looking down at the floor. "We met when we were young – kids really – and became friends. We hung around together when we weren't working the shows. Eventually we fell in love."

"How old were you?" Lisbon asked softly.

"Oh – sixteen, seventeen I guess. It happened gradually you know. We went from being best friends to", he gave a lop-sided smile "to more than friends. She hated the carny life and so did I. We made a pact that as soon as we could we'd leave. The moment she turned eighteen we ran away. We got married soon after that."

"You were young", was all Teresa said.

"Mmm hmm. Too young – but we made it work. For the first few years we lived in one room slums and I eked out a living doing whatever I could. I hated it, but Angela was happy – as long as we lived someplace without wheels, she said." Again he smiled, obviously remembering. "Slowly I began to build up clients, pretending to be psychic and finally, after a few years I was making a decent living. In fact, pretty soon I was doing really well. That's when we found out she was pregnant."

Teresa didn't say anything, knowing how hard this must be for him. It was hard for her too – listening to him talk about the woman he'd loved and lost – but she knew it was something that had to come out.

"That's when I bought the house in Malibu. I wanted someplace special for her and for our child. When Charlotte was born – I thought life couldn't get any better."

He sat quietly then, not saying anything for a long time, caught up in past memories. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued. "Afterward – after Red John – you know what I was like." He turned to her and gave a small smile. "I guess 'obsessed' is putting it mildly."

"It is", she agreed, although she smiled back. "But don't forget all the good you did along the way – and the friends you made. It wasn't all Red John."

He didn't agree, or disagree, although he gave her another smile. "Yes – well, whatever I did, the last thing I thought about, or was even interested in was another relationship. I was sure my – heart – had been buried with Angela and Charlotte." He stood up abruptly although he was hampered by his ankle and ended up sitting back down. "I don't want to sound maudlin but that was the truth – at least the truth until I realized that you had become essential to me."

He turned around on the bed and faced her. "I'm not saying I even recognized it was love – not until a long time later – I just knew that you made everything – bearable."

"I'm glad", she told him. "You did tell me once that you loved me you know."

He closed his eyes for a second. "Before I pretend shot you?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah – sorry. That was a bit of a -"

"A -?"

"Well, let's say I didn't mean for it to come out – although I did mean it, I just didn't _know_ I meant it."

"Good to know. Sorry – go on."

"I didn't want a relationship with anyone – wasn't interested in one – not while I was searching for Red John."

"Lorelei?"

He let out a huff of air. "Good old Lorelei. Honestly, she was nothing more than a combination of hangover, gratitude that someone seemed to care about me – she bailed me out of jail you know – and suspicion that she might be a link to Red John."

"You didn't love her."

"God no!" he answered quickly – too quickly to be a lie. "And it definitely wasn't a relationship." At Lisbon's skeptical look he reached out and took her hand. "Lisbon – it was _one time_ – one hangover induced time and it meant nothing."

"Really? I always wondered if you had some kind of thing for her."

"No – only in so far as she could lead me to Red John. She was not a nice person."

"Okay – so once with Lorelei, but you didn't want a relationship with anyone."

"Right." He stopped and looked at her.

"What?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"No one until now, until you", he told her softly, gently.

She knew she was missing something – something important, but couldn't quite tell what it was. Nothing he had told her, except the few details about his life with Angela, were a surprise. Still, he was acting as if he'd just told her something that he had never shared with anyone else – and she didn't get it.

"Jane I – I'm sorry but – what is it you're trying to tell me?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Lisbon – you all think I was some kind of ladies man and I _wasn't_. Angela was my first and only girlfriend and we married at 18. I was a completely faithful husband – except for that once with Lorelei." He finished and looked at her expectantly. It took a few moments before she finally got it.

The man she loved – the one she _had_ thought must have been quite a player – at least before he was married – _wasn't_. In fact, he had less experience than she had. "Oh", she covered her mouth with her hand and looked at him in surprise. A few seconds later she started to laugh.

He looked insulted – something she'd rarely ever seen on Jane. "I'm sorry", she told him ,trying to catch her breath. "I'm not laughing at you – really." It took a few seconds before she calmed down. "Jane – the man I love just informed me that he was faithful to his wife and _didn't _sleep around. I can promise you that that is something every woman wants to hear. I'm laughing because I'm relieved. I thought you were going to tell me something horrible."

"No, not something horrible just – rather embarrassing."

"Why embarrassing?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"Well – Pike was tall and athletic and handsome – and I'm sure experienced. I'm not sure you got the best deal here Lisbon."

She had no idea he was so insecure. She sobered up immediately, knowing that her reactions and what she said were extremely important. "Jane, can I tell you something? For the last few years I've had a number of fantasies – and none of them involved Pike – or any other man – other than you. You are the sexiest man I know and I _lust_ after you. When you kissed me – hell, was it only this morning – it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. There is nothing I want more than to make love with you and I am _not _comparing you to anyone else. And the fact that you were such a wonderful husband – that makes me love you even more, and makes me realize how lucky I am that you love me too."

He was quiet for a few seconds, letting himself, no _forcing _himself, to believe her words. It was hard for him – he still wasn't quite sure why she loved such a messed up person like him. Still, she did – and he loved her and he wanted her. So what the hell was he doing just sitting here?

"Come here", he said softly, drawing her into his arms. "So Lisbon – tell me about these fantasies of yours."

She laughed softly. "Only if you tell me yours."

"I thought you could read my mind."

"I can", she told him, drawing her hand lightly down his chest. "But it's better hearing it from you."

"Well, let me start with the fantasies I've had about your mouth …" he leaned down and gently kissed her. "And then we'll move on to other parts."

"You promise?" she whispered, her lips still touching his.

"Absolutely."


	3. Of Steps and Stages

_**Thank you so much for the kind reviews. Please do keep them coming as I honestly am inspired to write when people take the time to read and review my stories.**_

_**Hopefully this chapter is a bit more 'in character'. **_

"Jane." Agent Cho glanced up from his desk at the consultant as he passed.

"Hi Cho", Jane answered cheerfully, the ubiquitous cup of tea in his hand. He made his way over to his couch and sat down. "No one else here yet?"

Cho glanced around the empty room. "No."

"Hmm, that's kind of strange, isn't it?"

"No."

Jane took a cautious sip of the hot tea. "So, what's new?"

"Nothing."

Jane closed his eyes and leaned back, enjoying the quiet and the tea. "I expect Lisbon will be in shortly", he informed the other man.

"She's gone", Cho said, going through some papers on his desk. "She's going to DC."

"No she isn't", Jane answered calmly. "She'll be here."

Cho looked up at him eyebrows raised. After a moment he nodded. "Okay", he finally agreed amicably, recognizing that Abbott must have been right. Who would have thought? Jane and Lisbon. He'd have to call Rigsby and let him know.

"Hey Kim", Jane smiled his greeting at the agent who had just arrived.

"Jane. I didn't think you'd be back yet. How was the rest of your time in Miami?" she smirked.

"Miami was fine. A little too hot and humid for my taste but otherwise it was good."

"Mmm hmm", she murmured. "I'm sure it was _very_ hot."

Jane didn't respond other than to take a sip of tea. A moment later the room began to fill as other FBI employees arrived for their work-day. One of the last ones in was Abbott, who simply said a general hello, until he saw Jane.

"You're back."

"I am indeed", agreed Jane. "And may I say how nice it is to be here."

"I'm sure it is", Abbott told him, walking over and looking down at the consultant. "Where's your partner in crime?"

"If by that you mean Agent Lisbon, who I am sure has never committed a crime, either by herself or in partnership with me or anyone else, I don't know. I expect her to walk in though, in about", he looked at his watch, "five, four, three, two – hi Lisbon."

"Jane", she acknowledged him briefly. "Sir", she nodded at Abbott.

Just then Wylie also arrived. "Agent Lisbon! I thought you'd left already for Washington."

"Uh no. Actually Wylie, I'm -"

"I convinced Agent Lisbon to give us another chance", Abbott interrupted. "She's too good an agent to lose and I informed the office in DC they needed to find someone else."

"But I though you and Agent Pike -" Wylie started to say.

""Wylie, I need you to check some computer files for me", Cho interrupted, pulling out a file folder from the neat pile on his desk. "I need to cross check these names with the Waterford case files."

"What?" Wylie frowned in confusion. He glanced around at his colleagues and suddenly had the strange feeling there was something he was missing. "Uh, okay." He reached out and took the file folder. "I'm glad you're staying Agent Lisbon", he finally said. "We would have missed you."

"Thanks Wylie", she smiled. "I appreciate that."

"Lisbon, Jane, in my office in ten minutes please."

"Yes Sir", Lisbon answered quickly, refusing to look at the man on the couch.

"Ten minutes is perfect" Jane told him. "Just enough time for me to finish my tea. Ah, there's nothing like a good cup of Oolong."

Abbott rolled his eyes and headed towards his office, wondering briefly if he should have left Jane to the tender mercies of the TSA.

Lisbon glanced surreptitiously at the man on the couch, who responded with a full on grin and a general salute with his tea cup. "How are you this morning Lisbon?"

"Fine Jane", she answered, refusing to elaborate. "What's happening?"

"Cho informs me that nothing is happening, although I suspect he's not being entirely truthful. He's been looking at the Plesko file since about 5:00 this morning, trying to find anything he may have missed."

Cho sighed loudly and shook his head. "I didn't miss anything", Cho informed him.

"No? What about the fact that Ernie Baker is Miriam Plesko's brother?"

"She doesn't have a brother", Cho informed him.

"Yes she does. Miriam was adopted as an infant so there's no record of the fact that she had a brother. Ernie is that brother. It's obvious. All you have to do is look at the pictures of Miriam's parents – who don't look anything like her and then take a look at Ernie. Same nose, same jaw-line -"

"Even if that's true", Cho interrupted, "what does that have to do with the murder of her husband?"

Jane shook his head. "Cho, Cho, Cho – _money_. It was about money, which it usually is, unless it's about jealousy or revenge. But in this case it was purely money. Miriam inherited how much from her husband?"

"About $30 Million."

"There, you see."

"And you think she arranged for this long-lost brother to kill her husband for his money", Cho asked him.

"No, I don't think she had anything to do with it. She clearly loved her husband. But now there's an open field for this long-lost brother to show up in her life. She's all alone and obviously completely helpless and very needy. It won't be long before he insinuates himself into her life and – voila – he has access to all that money. I wouldn't be surprised if she mysteriously dies in a few years herself, leaving him as beneficiary in her will."

Cho stared at him, his lips pursed tightly.

"Sounds plausible to me Cho", Kim told him.

"No it doesn't", the stern-faced detective answered. "But knowing Jane, he's probably right. I'll check it out."

"You do that", Jane nodded.

"Come on Jane, Abbott wants to see us." Teresa grinned at the by-play she'd just witnessed, one that she'd seen on so many other occasions. She wondered suddenly how she could have ever contemplated leaving all this behind.

Jane stood up and stretched. Setting his cup down on a nearby desk he dutifully followed Lisbon. "Abbott calls", he told her cheerfully.

"Right", she rolled her eyes. "As if you ever do what he says."

"Hey, that's not fair", he objected as Teresa knocked on their bosses' office. "I _sometimes_ do."

"Come in." Dennis looked up from his desk as Lisbon, one of his most valuable agents and Jane, his biggest pain in the ass but definitely his _most_ valuable asset, walked in. "Have a seat." Once the two were seated he clasped his hands in front of him and began to speak. "You both know why you're here."

"Do we? Teresa", Jane turned his head to face the dark-haired woman at his side. "Do _you_ know why we're here?"

"Sir", she said, ignoring her partner. "Thank you for saying what you did about convincing me to stay. I appreciate it and it'll make it much easier."

"Easier than what?" Jane asked innocently, only grinning at the death glare he received from his partner.

"You're welcome Agent Lisbon. We are glad that you've decided not to leave us. But", and here he glared at Jane, "I'm going to insist that the two of you act in a professional way, or else I'll have to consider having one of you reassigned."

"Uh", Jane grimaced and changed position, looking rather uncomfortable.

It was Lisbon, however, who said what they were both thinking. "Uh Sir – Jane never acts professionally."

Abbott removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Of course he doesn't." He replaced his glasses and sighed. "I think you know what I mean. I don't want to see any – obvious – demonstrations from the two of you. Keep it clean and discreet and there won't be any problems."

He regarded the two of them – Lisbon, who was rather pink-cheeked, and Jane, who simply looked pleased with himself, and sighed again. He couldn't help but feel happy for them, although he worried what he was getting himself into now. "If you don't have any questions, then that will be all."

"Okay", Jane popped up out of his chair. "Hey Lisbon", he waggled his brows. "Feel like meeting me in the broom closet in fifteen minutes?"

Abbott laughed and told them to get out of his office. Lisbon sighed, then thanked her boss again and left, followed closely by the consultant, who turned at the last minute and faced the FBI agent.

"Thank you", he nodded, a sincere (for once) smile on his face.

"You're welcome and – good luck."

Jane moved back to his couch and spread himself out horizontally, his eyes closed and a small grin on his face. Lisbon watched him for a moment, and shook her head, wondering for the hundredth time what she'd gotten herself into. With a smile and sigh at the idea of the broom closet, she headed towards her own desk, ready to resume her work.

At least she tried to resume it. She ruffled papers around her desk, opened and closed files, checked her email (she had absolutely no idea what anyone had written) and generally tried to pretend she was working. People stopped by all morning to tell her they were glad she was staying but also offering condolences on the fact that her transfer had been denied. A few of them knew about Pike so there were some oblique references to him and even a few nosy questions. She managed to answer civilly to everyone and not give anything away. As far as she could tell, no one suspected a thing about her and Jane.

With all that was going through her head and with the constant interruptions she didn't get a thing accomplished. Whenever she was alone she would think back on the past few days and the huge changes that had occurred. First there was her confusion about going to DC, then her anger at Jane and the acceptance of Marcus' proposal – the most stupid thing she had ever done, she admitted to herself. At least accepting the proposal was stupid, the anger at Jane was definitely justified.

And then there was the scene on the plane. She still blushed to think about it. Talk about creating a spectacle. But if she were being honest with herself, through the embarrassment she had felt indescribable warmth over the fact that a man would go to that length for her. It was a memory she would never forget.

Also up there with 'things she'd never forget' was that first kiss. Her lips twitched at the thought and the broom closet was looking more tempting after each passing moment. She was absolutely planning to experience more of those kisses soon. She just prayed they wouldn't get a new case today.

And then, of course, there were Patrick's revelations about his wife and his – experience, something it was still hard for her to process. And finally, more special than anything was the night that followed those revelations. She _definitely_ would never forget that night. He might not be as experienced, at least with the _number_ of women he'd been with but damn, he was definitely good at knowing what a woman wanted. She guessed it was part and parcel of his ability to read people.

However he did it – and she didn't know whether she wanted to explore that in depth or not – it was amazing. She'd never had anyone make her feel quite like that before. To be fair to the other men she'd dated, part of the difference might be that she was in love with Jane and that had to make the physical side of things even better. After a second she shook her head. No way. It had been good because Jane knew her and knew how to make her respond. It was as simple as that.

She spent a few minutes day dreaming about their night – and morning – together and then forced herself to stop. It was just too – frustrating, especially when she glanced over at his resting form and started to imagine him the way she'd seen him in bed at the hotel.

She switched her mind to their drive home. Jane had insisted on renting a car, rather than taking the bus, even though it was expensive. She wondered briefly how much money he had squirreled away, although figured it probably didn't matter. He wasn't a man who was interested in possessions and so used his money to pretty much do as he wanted.

The ride home had been fun. They'd talked and laughed, much like they had done for years, except it was much lighter and freer than before. She was only beginning to realize how much darkness Jane had shed since he'd killed Red John. There were still scars – hell, still open wounds – that would probably never quite heal, but he was beginning to open up and to let go of at least some of the anger and guilt.

She knew she had to be willing to accept that there would always be a part of Jane that would be beyond her ability to help or to heal. He had been damaged in ways she could never imagine, didn't _want_ to imagine, and she was sure there was nothing anyone could do to change that. Still, there was a part of her that knew that those very scars are also what had turned him into the man she loved. The brief glimpses she'd had on occasion, of the Jane he must have been before, had been someone she _couldn't_ have loved. The horrible tragedy he had suffered had turned him into a better man – what horrible irony.

The conversation on their return had never veered into anything serious or earth shattering. They had silently agreed that they didn't need that, not now, not after all the turmoil and the changes of the last few days. They needed time to simply _be_ – to enjoy one another without soul-baring revelations.

She hoped that would come, recognized it _had_ to come – at least to a certain extent. She knew, as did Jane, that their relationship would only succeed with openness and trust. Oh, she trusted that he would do anything for her, she was less sure that he could be completely open with his thoughts and feelings. The jury was out, but she was hopeful.

When they'd arrived back in Austin she'd debated asking him to stay when he drove up to her house. Fortunately her landlord hadn't rented it yet and was happy to let her move right back in. In the end they'd both agreed – Jane with a smile and a shrug – that it was better if he went back to his Airstream. As much as she wanted him with her, she also needed some space to think things over and to get re-settled, both physically and emotionally. She rather suspected that Jane needed some time alone as well, even though he didn't admit it. He'd made a huge, and for him frightening, step, and he needed to process everything.

They'd agreed that they'd try and keep things quiet at work, although frankly she doubted he'd be able to. She had suspected that he would tease her and make it obvious to everyone that they were a couple. He wasn't exactly the subtlest person in the world, unless he wanted to be. For some stupid reason then, she felt disappointed that he'd been his old, usual self when she got in today. He was definitely playing it cool, not acting any differently towards her than he ever did – and she was tempted to start teasing _him._

She laughed and then grew embarrassed when heads turned and people looked at her. She was supposed to be going over cold-case murder files – not something that usually generated laughter. She glanced over at Jane, who was lying down with his eyes closed, but who was also sporting a smirk.

The jerk! He knew _exactly_ what she was thinking and was enjoying it. She would definitely have to plan some way of getting him back.

It was lunch-time and she was starting to get hungry. She hadn't had time to fix anything for herself. If course, the fact that her refrigerator and cupboards were bare had made it impossible regardless of the time. Knowing she'd have to either go to the cafeteria, which she hated, or drive to one of the restaurants close by, she almost decided to simply forget lunch.

Just then someone walked by her desk – she didn't lift her head to see who – but a small piece of paper floated down. She frowned and went to grab it, only to smile when she saw what it was. The frog! Jane had made one for her years ago, shortly after he'd started consulting with the CBI. She laughed at the fond memory.

She went to reach for it when it jumped and she couldn't help the small squeak that erupted. Looking around in embarrassment she was relieved that no one seemed to have noticed – except maybe Cho, who had a small smile on his face, even though he wasn't looking at her.

With another check around the room she reached and picked up the small paper frog. There was writing on it and she quickly straightened the paper.

_Meet me in the courtyard in 10._

Carefully placing the paper in her purse she checked her watch, grinned and started re-sorting the file in front of her.

Jane was sitting at one of the table in the courtyard provided for employees. He had a large while paper bag in front of him and two sodas.

"Hi", his eyes crinkled up as he caught sight of her. "Lunch?"

"Tell me you brought something good?" she asked, sitting down and giving him a smile.

"Mmm – here", he reached in and pulled out two sandwiches – thick grilled vegetables and cheese layered in crusty French bread. He also brought out a couple of apples and placed them on the table. "Thought you probably didn't have a chance to buy any food last night and I know how much you hate the cafeteria here."

"How did you do this? You were in late last night too." She took a bite of the sandwich and closed her eyes. "This is amazing."

He shrugged and simply grinned as he watched her eat. "How was your morning?"

She looked at him in disgust, still chewing her sandwich. "Fine. And yours? Get some more sleep?"

He grinned even wider and grabbed a piece of Portobello mushroom that seemed to want to escape his sandwich. "I'll have you know I wasn't sleeping. I was thinking."

"About a case I'm sure", she told him sarcastically.

"No – I solved the Plesko case already this morning. No, this was about this weekend."

"You were thinking about this weekend?" she asked curiously. "What about it?"

"Well, I thought we could do something – you know, something fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah, you know 'fun' – something you enjoy doing?"

"Oh." She suddenly realized that, although she and Jane had spent a lot of time together over the years, and that there had been fun times, she had never gone with him somewhere that wasn't somehow case related. "You mean a date?" she finally asked, a smile breaking out on her face.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes Teresa, a date."

"Sounds good. What did you have in mind?"

He frowned for a moment and she suddenly wondered what kinds of things he found fun. She didn't picture him as the out-door type – although the mental picture of him tramping down trails in his suit was rather priceless. Museums seemed more his style, that and classical concerts or plays.

"How about the zoo?" he asked.

"The _zoo_?" It was the last place she would have thought of and she blinked a couple of times in surprise.

"You don't like zoos?"

"What? No – no, it's not that. It's just I guess I never thought of you going to a zoo."

He grinned at her – she never got tired of his smile or how his eyes crinkled up. How the hell he could be such a smiler after everything he'd been through always amazed her. Although, on second thought she realized that a lot of it over the years had been a front, armor to protect himself. Now she was pretty sure the smiles were mostly honest – and she loved them.

Without warning his smile faded and he broke eye contact with her. The next moment he was twisting his wedding ring. "Uh – I used to -"

"Yes", she prodded softly, recognizing that whatever he was going to say was something difficult and probably painful.

He looked up at her and this time his smile was crooked. "Charlotte used to love it."

She blinked again, pretty sure that if she tried to speak it would come out more as a sob. That was the first time she'd ever really heard him mention his daughter except in the context of her death and catching Red John. She reached out her hand and captured his. "I would love to go to the zoo." She squeezed his hand and he looked at her gratefully.

"See, it'll be fun", he told her, his eyes looking suspiciously bright but the full-watt smile beginning to return.

"Yes it will." She grabbed one of the apples and took a bite. "I see you finally remembered my apple", she informed him, knowing he needed a change of subject.

He laughed and stood up, collecting the garbage. "I never forget anything you ask me Teresa", he told her. "Come on or Abbott's gonna send Cho out to get us."

She stood, more slowly, and wished that she could reach out and kiss him. For some reason she knew that what had just occurred was pretty momentous and a step forward in their relationship. God, she wanted to be able to hug him. Instead all she could do was brush past him and give his hand another quick squeeze.

He followed her back into the building, feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time.


	4. Of Lions and Tigers and Bears

_**Thank you again to all my reviewers. Your comments are**_** _so appreciated. I haven't decided how long I'm going to make this story. I can keep going with it if people are interested (getting into marriage, family, etc) or quit sooner. Let me know what you think. I only want to continue if people are interested._**

**_This is mainly fluff with a small amount of angst. More angst to come in future chapters. Thanks again!_**

They arrested Ernie Baker that afternoon. They found the murder weapon hidden under the floorboards in his room, and numerous clippings about the Plesko fortune. Cho got to make the arrest and they brought the suspect in for questioning. He soon confessed and by 4:30 everything had been wrapped up.

George Plesko had been a prominent businessman and friend and supporter of the governor. The governor was pleased with the FBI, giving a personal call of thanks to Abbott. Abbott was therefore pleased and instead of everyone simply ordering 'case closed pizza', he offered to take everyone out for pizza and beer.

Lisbon was a little disappointed. She'd been looking forward to spending some time with Jane that evening, but, at his questioning look she'd decided they should go with their colleagues. The last thing they wanted was to alienate themselves from everyone. She also didn't want people being suspicious, which they might be if the two of them didn't show up.

In the end she had fun. Jane was on his best behavior, charming everyone with his tricks and beating everyone at pool. She spent the evening laughing and talking with Kim and Cho and even talked to Abbott about his kids. At one point in the evening she'd thought about Rigsby and Van Pelt and realized how much she missed them. She thought she might just give Grace a call one day soon and tell her about Jane. She wondered if her friend would be surprised.

The evening ended by 10:00 as the next day was still a workday, although fortunately it was Friday. It was only as she was heading to her car that Jane caught up and for the first time that evening managed a few minutes alone with her.

"Tomorrow night", he told her.

"Tomorrow night?" she looked at him enquiringly.

"Dinner."

"Oh – that sounds nice. Uh, how should I dress?"

"Well", he grinned, "I find I prefer you in as little as possible", he told her. A quick swat from her – and a smile – and he shrugged. "Something nice. I thought we could go dancing afterward."

They managed to spend a few minutes at her car, making out in the darkness of the night. With a sigh Jane pulled away. "Teresa, as much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I'm too old to be doing this in an alley and if we don't stop now I won't be able to!"

"Well", she told him softly, stroking her hand down his chest, "you _could_ follow me home."

"And you won't find that a little creepy", he asked, bending and letting his lips stroke her neck.

She shivered. "No, not at all. In fact -" she stopped and sucked in a breath. "Oh God Jane." She pulled away, grabbed his hand and led him to her passenger door. "Get in."

"But my car is here -"

"You can pick it up in the morning. Now get in."

"Ooh – I gotta say Lisbon, I rather like this side of you."

"Yes well, you're gonna see more sides of me if you hurry up."

Jane grinned, got in and slammed the door. They arrived back at Teresa's house in record time.

The next morning they both slept in late and had to rush to get ready to get to work. There was barely time for Teresa to drop him off at his car so at least they wouldn't arrive together. As it was Jane got to work a bit late. Fortunately Abbott was in a meeting with Teresa and Kim and didn't notice.

"Rough night?" Cho asked as Jane sauntered by his desk.

"What?" Jane stopped, looking slightly startled, which caused Cho to raise his eyebrows. It wasn't very often that anything anyone said bothered the man.

Cho gestured at him with his chin. "You look like you slept in your suit."

"Oh", Jane glanced down and grimaced. He hadn't bothered to hang it up last night, too preoccupied with other, more interesting things.

"You should buy some new clothes", Cho then told him. "Women like that."

For once Jane didn't know what to say and simply made his way to his couch. He sat there frowning for quite a while, pondering Cho's words. _Should_ he consider buying something new? He glanced down at his usual shirt, one of the ones he'd purchased on the island, and his suit. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed the socks. Every time he put them on he thought of Lisbon.

But back to his clothes. It had been years since he'd thought much about them. Before Red John he'd always dressed carefully, with expensive suits and ties. He'd had to look the part of a successful and respectable man. With the death of his wife and daughter he'd lost interest in anything, including how he looked or dressed. It had been Lisbon who had told him to clean up, which he had. But rather than return to his former mode of dress he'd purchased cheap suits and vests. They'd been his uniform, his armor – the uniform of a man obsessed with vengeance.

When he'd finally killed Red John he'd been able to lose that uniform. Coming back to the FBI had meant more suits even though he refused to conform and kept a measure of independence by keeping the shirts and again refusing to wear a tie.

Then there were the shoes. He looked down at them in affection tinged with sadness. They were the last purchase he had made with Angela. He'd wanted comfortable shoes to wear at home and with casual pants. These had been comfortable and although she had rolled her eyes at his choice, she'd kissed him and told him she wouldn't complain.

"And I want you to always remember Patrick", she'd told him, "every time you wear those shoes, how much I love you."

He never forgot – and planned to keep the shoes as long as he could. But that didn't mean he couldn't dress up a bit. He bit his lip, and pondered what he should do. He finally stood and wandered back to Cho's desk.

"So, where do you get your suits?" he asked the man.

Cho glanced up, his expression not changing. "Just go to Barton Creek Mall. Lots of men's stores there. And you might consider some other things too."

"Like what?"

"Some jeans. Women like men in jeans."

"Well, most women, but that doesn't mean -"

"Lisbon will like you in jeans", Cho told him, pulling a form forward and starting to fill it out.

Just then Teresa returned from her meeting, Kim at her side. She smiled a greeting at the two men.

"Hey Jane, where were you this morning? You were late." Kim gave a smirk but stood looking at Jane expectantly.

Cho shook his head and continued to work while Patrick simply smiled. "Nice to see you Kim. I had some car trouble."

"Really? What's wrong with your car?"

"Wouldn't start. It's okay now though."

Everyone settled in after that – Jane picked up some cold files and began to read them. After solving the Dejorio case Abbott wanted Jane to begin looking at other, high-profile cases that had gone unsolved. The others were working on clearing up the backlog of paperwork that resulted from their investigations

Midway through the morning there was a slight disturbance when Bill from the security desk came up holding a bouquet of flowers. "I have a delivery here for Agent Lisbon", he called. Everyone in the room stopped and peered at him as he was waved over to Teresa's desk, a huge, colorful arrangement of wild-flowers in his hand.

"I signed for it downstairs Agent", the smiling Bill told her. "We've checked it over and it's fine. Someone sure must like you."

She smiled and thanked the man as she took the bouquet, her cheeks flushed as everyone in the room regarded her silently.

"Agent Pike must really miss you", Wiley said cheerfully.

Teresa suddenly looked panicked and couldn't help but glance over at Jane, who seemed immersed in the file he was reading. Could it have been Marcus? Was he trying to get her back by this romantic gesture? She set the flowers down, forced to admit that they were gorgeous and just exactly what she liked. She'd never cared for more formal arrangements, the more natural looking arrangement and the burst of colors more to her taste.

"Who's it from Teresa?" Kim called over to her.

"Uh – I'm not sure", she said. After a moment she discovered a card and opened it. There was nothing on it but a tiny diagram of a frog, surrounded by a heart.

"So, tell us?" Kim was looking at her curiously, noting the huge smile that had spread over her colleague's face.

"It – uh – doesn't say", she told everyone. "I must have a secret admirer." She carefully put the card in her pocket and sat down. He was _so_ going to get a reward for this. She was starting to realize that Jane could be romantic, something she never would have expected. It was exciting to see this new side of him. She glanced up, just in time to see him look up from his file and give her a quick wink. Yup, he was definitely getting something nice for this. Of course now she had to deal with speculation from the rest of the office. Some probably thought it was Pike, others were wondering who the mystery man was. It was kind of fun.

Jane chose to leave a bit early, telling her he needed to run an errand before picking her up for dinner. "I'll be there at 6:00", he told her softly as he walked by her desk. She gave a small nod.

"Have a good weekend Teresa, everyone." Jane gave a general wave and headed towards the door.

"Nice move", Cho told him as he walked by.

"What?"

"The flowers. Nice. You're gonna get lucky tonight."

"I already am Cho", he told his friend. With a light step he headed out of the building and to the mall.

"The suit fits you perfectly", the clerk told him. "We don't even need to alter it. And with this shirt and tie you'll look extremely elegant."

Jane considered himself in the mirror, feeling rather uncomfortable. The man staring back at him looked too much like the con-man of years gone by. Older of course, but not exactly what he was going for. Still, if Teresa liked it …

"Okay, I'll take it."

"And if I may suggest Sir, there's a good men's shoe store just down the hall."

Okay, now that was going too far! There was no reason to buy new shoes. He looked at himself again and groaned. Okay, so maybe he could buy a pair, just for tonight.

When he glanced at his watch he realized time was running short. He had to make it home, shower and then pick up Lisbon in just over an hour. He was cutting it close.

He felt horribly uncomfortable in his new suit and especially the tie. It was the first he'd worn since the funerals. He grimaced at that thought and shook his head to stop from going there. He could do this – for Teresa it would be worth it.

She was nervous and didn't know why. They'd had a great evening the night before and he'd sent her flowers today. They were just going to dinner and dancing – nothing earth shattering. But it didn't seem to matter. Her heart was thudding like an insane jackhammer and her palms were sweaty.

"It's because it's your first real date with Patrick', she muttered. The first real formal date and it was making her nervous – which was absolutely ridiculous if you considered what they'd been up to last night. There was no reason she should be feeling shy.

The doorbell rang and she noted that it was exactly six. She had to admit that Jane was punctual when he wanted to be.

"Hi, you're right on -" her voice stopped dead. "_Patrick_."

"Hi", he told her, wondering suddenly if he'd made a huge mistake. "I just - I thought I should -"

"You look amazing!" She grabbed the lapels of his new suit and pulled him forward, her lips capturing his possessively.

Midway into the kiss he admitted that Cho was right. Women did like it when you bought new clothes.

"You're wearing a tie" she said, after they'd both caught their breath.

"Mmm", he agreed, distracted by the little pulse beating in her neck. It was so cute and definitely invited a kiss.

"You don't wear ties" she bent her head, allowing him better access to the highly sensitive part of her neck. "_Why_ are you wearing a tie?"

He shrugged. "I wanted tonight to be special and Cho told me I should get some new clothes."

"And – new shoes? Wow. You look – incredible."

"So do you." He realized he'd barely had a chance to see her before he'd been pulled into the kiss. But now, looking at her in the skin-tight little black dress, he was pretty sure that he'd been wrong. There _had_ to be a heaven because he'd just walked into it.

"Shall we?" he held out his arm, hoping the rest of the evening went as well as the beginning had.

Lisbon could barely get enough of looking at her boyfriend – no, lover sounded better. He was such a handsome man, but for many years he'd looked like a lost waif. Now however, he could have doubled for a model in a men's magazine.

The restaurant was amazing and afterward there was dancing. In the end they went for a walk by the river and then slowly headed back to Teresa's. This time she didn't say anything, simply drew him into her house and her bedroom.

Yup – it had ended even better than it had begun. And this time, his suit got hung in the closet.

The next day was their planned trip to the zoo. Jane left to go home and change and then he'd come back to pick Teresa up and head over to see the lions and tigers and bears.

Lisbon was in for another shock when Jane got back. She packed away the last of the picnic things and then dried her hands when the doorbell rang. "Hey, I'm just – jeans?"

"They're okay?" he asked anxiously. He looked at himself self-consciously, feeling like a fraud in the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. At least he could wear his comfortable shoes.

"They're fine. They look great", she told him with a kiss, "although I may end up not recognizing you if you keep changing your style like this."

"You'll always recognize me", he told her seriously.

"Right – you're the one getting in trouble and getting _me_ into trouble."

"But you're not bored are you? You would have been bored with – uh – anyone else."

"No, I'm not bored", she agreed, a small smirk on her face.

"Good, because we have a long day ahead of us. I vote for the hippos!"

"I want to see the tigers."

Teresa couldn't remember when she'd had more fun. She'd loved Jane – for a long time if truth were told, but now she was really getting to _like_ him. He was always gentle and considerate with her and hadn't played any games, at least as far as she could tell. He talked non-stop, but since everything he said was interesting or relevant she didn't mind.

The only wrinkle they ran into all day was when she expressed a desire to see the koalas. At first he pretended he hadn't heard and then after that he avoided the discussion every time it came up.

"Why won't you let me go see the koalas", she asked recklessly after his forth time ignoring her.

"I can't _let_ you do anything Lisbon", he told her. "If you want to go see them, go ahead."

"Come with me."

"No, I'll wait here."

"But Patrick", she smiled and put her arms around his waist. "They're so _cute_. Come on."

"I told you no Lisbon", he snapped, stepping away.

She'd rarely, if ever, heard Jane get angry and stepped back in surprise. It took her only a moment to realize what was going on and then she wanted to slap herself. He'd _told_ her that his daughter loved the zoo, and what little girl didn't love to look at the koalas, probably the cutest animal there was. "I'm sorry" she suddenly whispered, stepping forward and putting her arms around him again."

She could feel the tension in his body and was worried by the fact that he didn't immediately return her embrace. "Patrick?"

"I'm sorry Lisbon", he let out a deep breath. "It's stupid I know. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

She leaned back in confusion. "What? What isn't a good idea?"

"I – look, you know I'm messed up. I wanted everything to be perfect but -"

"Stop! Just stop right there. Look, I know you still have – scars, demons that you're dealing with. I understand that and I accept it. I was the one who messed up here, not you. I wasn't listening to you and I pushed when I should have known better."

"You just wanted to see koalas. It shouldn't have been a big deal", he said in disgust at himself.

"Of course it's a big deal. I get it, I really do. So stop beating yourself up about it and let's go see the elephants instead."

He finally agreed and they headed out. Sadly, the light-hearted joy of the day was gone. But Lisbon realized that maybe this wasn't a bad thing. At least Jane was beginning to let her see some of the hurt that for many years he'd tried to keep carefully hidden. She didn't try and make him feel better because she knew she couldn't. But she could stick with him and be there for him when he needed her. She reached over and took his hand. "I love you Patrick and this doesn't change that. In fact, it makes me love you even more."

"That I'm so screwed up?" he asked bitterly.

"We're all screwed up in one way or another. Don't you think I have my demons? You couldn't get me to go to a stock car race if my life depended on it – and no, I can't talk about it, at least not now. One day, maybe. But one thing I know – is even if I can't talk about my demons to you yet, I _can_ trust you to love me and be there for me – and I want you to believe that I'm here for you as well."

He slowed and then stopped. Taking a deep breath he turned to her and gently pushed back the hair around her face. "Thank you", was all he said, and then he gave her a gentle kiss.

They wandered around a bit more, but both were getting tired so they decided to head out. This time they went to Patrick's trailer, as he told her he'd prepared something for their dinner. That night they didn't make love, but rather spent the time wrapped in one another's arms, each knowing they were no longer alone.


	5. Of Doubt and Despair

_**Thank you to all of you who have/are reviewing. I so appreciate your comments, including your suggestions for where you'd like to see this story go. I hope you're all still enjoying! I've just started reading other Mentalist fics and am wowed by the great writers out there in this fandom. It's very humbling!**_

_**This is a very angsty chapter.**_

What was _wrong_ with her? Everything should be wonderful. She was in a relationship with the man she loved, whom she had loved for a long time. She should be happy. But there was something wrong, or at least something that was not right. She wished she could figure out what it was.

Jane had been amazing. He'd been sweet and caring and romantic and had even tempered his actions at work. Both Abbott and Fischer had congratulated her, telling her that they'd never seen such good behavior from their consultant. Instead of this making her happy, it had added to the increasing tension she was feeling.

She knew that Patrick had noticed and that he was worried. So far he hadn't said anything but had been even nicer and sweeter. He was trying so hard and for the life of her she couldn't figure out what the hell was the matter.

She'd actually snapped at him at a crime seen that morning and she'd caught the hurt look in his eyes. A master of hiding his emotions, no one else noticed and he carried on pretty much as usual. Of course _she_ noticed and felt guilty as hell. What made it worse was he didn't say anything. A part of her had hoped that he'd call her on it, the way he normally did. She'd then deny anything was wrong, then get angry and then they'd argue and she'd get whatever it was out of her system. But he didn't and she didn't and she felt like hell.

She knew she had to do something or else their relationship would end before it had even had a chance to really begin. She hadn't seen him since they'd left he crime scene, which wasn't like him. She wondered if she should look for him, but since she didn't know what to say, she instead sat at her desk and tried to focus on paperwork.

She glanced up regularly to see if he'd come back, but so far he hadn't appeared. She could go and ask one of the others or even Abbott where he was, but that might just start awkward questions, something she really didn't need right now. So, instead she put her head down and stared at the papers in front of her.

It was almost time to leave and still Jane hadn't shown up. She couldn't take it anymore and finally walked over to Cho. "Have you seen Jane?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Not recently. Not since he left."

"Left? Did he say where he was going?"

Cho looked at her with a slight frown between his brows. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Uh no. Or he may have and I forgot. I was thinking about the case and probably just – uh – missed him."

At this he swiveled his chair around until he was facing her. "What's wrong Lisbon?"

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong. I just was wondering where he went, that's all."

"He left because he said he wasn't feeling well. I don't think it was physical. And right now you look about the same. So, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

He didn't say a word but simply regarded her intently. It was at moments like these that she realized why Cho was so good at interrogations. He didn't need to say much of anything and she wanted to confess things she hadn't even done. At that thought she had to choke back a laugh. The next moment the almost laugh turned into an almost cry as the emotion began to well up. "I don't know what's wrong", she finally admitted, ever though Kimball hadn't said another word. "It should be perfect. Jane's been great and I know he – he cares for me."

"He loves you. He's crazy about you", Cho corrected.

"I know – and I feel the same about him. It's just – something's bothering me and I don't know what it is."

"Have you talked to him?"

"No, because I don't know what to say."

"Tell him what you just told me. If you don't, it's not going to work. He's not a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve – we all know that – but he's hurting and he doesn't know what to do. He's afraid he's going to lose you."

"I don't want to lose him either. What's wrong with me? Everything should be wonderful and instead I feel like it's all going to hell before we've even had a chance."

"Do you want it to work?"

She paused for a moment and stared at the man who was often hard to read but who had proved to be a good friend many times over. She finally took a deep breath. "There's nothing I want more. I love him Kimball. He's my _life_."

"Then tell him that", Cho told her again. "He needs to know that because I don't think he feels very confident in you or in himself. In fact I know he doesn't. He doesn't think he deserves you and if you keep this up he'll walk away, thinking he's doing the right thing."

"God no", she murmured, dropping her head to her hands. "But I don't know what's wrong. Why do I feel like this when I love him so much?"

Cho shook his head. "I don't know Teresa. But _tell_ him" he told her again, showing a rare moment of emotion. "He deserves to know how you feel." He handed her a Kleenex and watched her silently as she dabbed her face and tried to regain her composure.

"Thanks Kimball", she sniffed and gave him a smile. "I needed that."

"You're welcome. I think he went back to his trailer. Go see him."

"I will", she gave him another smile and stood up, determined to figure this out so that she wouldn't lose the man she loved.

Jane had known for a while that things weren't going the way he'd hoped they would. At first everything had been good and he'd been hopeful. Soon, however, he'd begun to notice a tension in Teresa that hadn't been there before. Outwardly she seemed happy, but he could tell that something was bothering her. He'd tried on many occasions to worm it out of her – or simply to figure it out on his own. He was good at that – it was what he did. But this time he had no luck. She wasn't speaking and his skills seemed to have deserted him, at least where she was concerned.

He began to really worry. Not just to worry, but to despair. He'd finally gathered the courage to tell her, had placed his heart on his sleeve, expecting to be rejected. When she'd told him she loved him he'd been overjoyed and he had allowed himself to hope and to dream of an actual future. For the first time since that fateful day when he'd returned home and found that note on his door, he had started to believe that life held something good for him. Now things felt like they crashing down around him. He knew himself well enough to know that if they did, he would never open himself up again. He'd been given a taste of what life could be like for him, once more, but it was slowly and steadily being taken away from him.

He was trying to be the best he could be. He tried to make her feel like he deserved her – that he would never hurt her. He was on his best behavior at work, and had bit his tongue on more occasions than he could count. But it didn't seem to matter. She was drawing away from him and he didn't know why.

It had finally come to a head that morning when she'd spoken to him with such anger it had almost caused him to physically step away from her. As it was he'd had to use all his acting ability to hide from the others how devastating it was. He didn't know what he'd done, but he knew it was something. He also knew, with blinding clarity that it wasn't going to work. He just wasn't good enough for her and she had finally realized it. She should have gone to Washington with Agent Pike.

For once he wasn't able to hide his feelings and so, when she left the room for a few minutes he'd gone in to Abbott and told him he was feeling sick and needed to leave. Abbott stared at him for a few seconds and then nodded. "You don't look too good. Take care of yourself. Do you want Lisbon to drive you?"

"No, she's got a lot of work right now. I'm fine to drive. I'm just going home and to bed."

He'd left with a quick explanation to Cho and Kim. He figured Lisbon would be relieved to have him gone for the day.

Instead of returning to the Airstream however, he headed towards a nearby park. Wandering over to a bench he sat down, too tired and too discouraged to do anything but watch people as they drifted by.

She knocked for the third time on the door to his trailer, although by now it was obvious that he wasn't there. Where could he be? It suddenly hit her that she had no idea of the places he went when he wasn't working or with her. She frowned when it hit her that she had never even bothered to ask.

How horrible was that? She slowly walked back to her car and got in. But rather than start it up she sat there, thinking about Jane. He really was being wonderful, she told herself. She'd worried that when or if they ever got together she'd find him difficult to be around. He _was_ difficult, although not in the little day-to-day ways, but he was also interesting and funny and infuriating and so very, very precious. So why the hell was there a problem?

She thought back to the last few weeks and tried to analyze what it could be. He did all the right things but – but what Teresa? What was it? What was _wrong_? She pictured him sitting on her couch, watching her as she puttered around her living room tidying up while they talked. She thought of his smile, the mischievous look in his eyes when he was teasing her and the gentleness when he was showing her how much he loved her. She thought of him lying out on her couch, reading, sleeping, grinning at her.

She picture his twisting his ring, telling her -. Her brain froze and her brows crinkled. What was that? His _ring_. That was it – that's what was bothering her.

No, it wasn't really the ring. She understood why he kept it on, had accepted it years ago and had actually thought it sweet and wonderful that he was so devoted to his wife. The issue wasn't the ring itself but rather the fact that he never mentioned it or his wife or daughter or really anything about them or even about how he felt about anything. Oh, he told her he loved her, that she meant the world to him, but she didn't know much else about his feelings.

She thought back to all their conversations both before and after they started dating. Except for a few very rare occurrences, he never spoke about his wife or daughter or their life together. She had no idea what they had been like, or what they liked to do together. She could understand that it must still be painful but surely after all these years he could say _something._

And the fact was it wasn't even really about him not talking about them. It dawned on her that what was bothering her was that she didn't know if he could ever let go of the past enough to have a future with her. Not that she wanted him to let go completely. No, she knew his wife and daughter were a central part of his life and always would be. But she suspected that he hadn't _really _forgiven himself or that he hadn't given himself permission to move on. He was making all the right moves, but a core part of Patrick Jane was still caught up in the love and guilt he still felt for his wife and daughter. The fact that he couldn't talk about them, that he still wore his ring and that he rarely if ever gave anything away about his deepest feelings for them had subconsciously made her worry that he wasn't ready for another relationship.

He loved her, that she knew, but she didn't know if he was ready to move on. He tried to show her he was and she suspected he tried to tell himself he was – but she had begun to doubt. She thought of the hesitation she sometimes caught in his eyes and the fierce control he exercised over his emotions. He wanted everyone to think that killing Red John had brought him closure – but she really wondered if it had.

And if not, could they have a life together or would the specter of Angela and Charlotte get in the way of their life together?

She started her car and drove home.

Jane finally returned to his trailer, physically and mentally exhausted. The past month had been incredible, in so many ways, but also more stressful than he would have ever believed. In trying to make sure Lisbon didn't regret her decision, he figured he'd tried a little too hard. Maybe that's what was wrong. Whatever it was though, he knew he had to figure it out or he was going to lose her. He just wished he had some idea what was bothering her. It frustrated him terribly that he couldn't figure it out.

He fixed himself a cup of tea, but even that didn't seem to help. He paced around the Airstream, for once wishing that he had more space. That immediately brought to mind his house in Malibu. It was big and spacious and beautiful and a place he avoided thinking about now that - things had changed. He remembered Teresa asking him about it and him brushing her off. It still brought up memories he avoided, although he knew that one day he'd have to make a decision about it – just not now.

Now he had to try and figure out what to do about Lisbon. There was no way in hell he was going to lose her, not if he had anything to say about it. He reached down and played with his ring, trying to figure out what his next steps should be.

It was as he was thinking – looking down at his hands – that he had a sudden revelation. His ring. He was still wearing his wedding ring. "Damn", he said softly, staring down at the thin circle of gold that had stayed on his finger – except for two very brief periods – since he'd said his vows with Angela.

What had he been thinking? He was with Teresa now and yet he still wore his ring. It hadn't even dawned on him, which was rather absurd. How could it not – and how could she not notice. And then there was his refusal to talk about his house – and his avoidance of the stupid koalas without any explanation. She'd figured it out, but she shouldn't have had to.

What the hell was wrong with him? He chuckled softly, bitterly. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. He'd closed himself off emotionally from anyone and everyone for so long that it had become a habit. On top of that, he'd refused to let himself think about Angela or Charlotte – or about their lives together – in any other context than his quest for revenge.

It had been too painful to conjure up memories of his wife and daughter. For a long time after their deaths he simply existed. He went through the motions of living, his only motivation the drive to kill Red John. Slowly over time, through the friendship of his CBI colleagues, and the support and trust of Lisbon, his heart had managed to crack open a little bit. He'd let them in, slowly, surely, but he still had not allowed himself to spend time on memories of his family.

He'd never said goodbye to them and he hadn't told them how much he loved them – had loved them and still loved them. In his mind he knew it didn't matter – they were dead and it would mean nothing to them – but in his heart he knew he had been remiss. He had been so caught up in revenge, for so long, that he had closed his heart to his love for them. He had not allowed himself to remember for in remembrance he knew there was pain. But now - it was time. If he was to move forward he had to accept all that was in the past – the pain he had lived with for so long, and the love and memories from which he'd hidden. It was only then that he could truly build a life with Teresa. He suddenly knew that she had seen this, even if she didn't quite understand it.

He continued to sit, the tea in front of him untouched and the light growing dim. It was only long after darkness had come that he slowly touched his left hand. After a moment's hesitation he pulled off his wedding ring, holding it in his hand until, finally sighing he stood up. He'd put it somewhere safe, but he would never again wear it. "I love you Angela", he said softly, as he placed the ring in his night table. He slowly closed the drawer and sat on the bed, unmoving for hours.

When Lisbon arrived at work the next morning she immediately noticed that Jane wasn't in. That wasn't unusual – he wasn't always the first one in – but still she worried. Soon the office filled up but still no Jane. She was just about to ask Cho, when Abbott came by and asked to see her. With a bad feeling in her stomach she stood and followed him.

"Agent Lisbon", he motioned her to a chair. "I wanted to let you know that I've given Jane a few days off. He had some business to attend to and he asked for time to deal with it."

"Oh – okay", she told her boss. "How long will he be off? Did he – is he in Austin?"

"A week or so and I don't know where he went", he answered, looking at her with a puzzled look. He must have thought she should know. "I assumed his business was here."

"You trust him?" Lisbon asked bluntly, surprised at Abbott would let Jane go so easily.

"To come back you mean?" Abbott asked, his brows raised. "Yes, I trust him. He has an – incentive – to come back. And he told me he would and this time I believed him. I'm not worried and neither should you be."

"No", she sighed, although inside she wondered. What had she done that would make him leave like this? "Well, thank you for telling me Sir", she stood. "Was that all?"

"Yes." Abbott watched as she headed towards the door. "Teresa", he called. "Don't worry so much. He _will _be back you know."

"I – know", she smiled. "I just – thank you again Sir, for telling me."

He watched as she left and headed back to her desk. "Jane, I hope you know what you're doing", he said, shaking his head.

Teresa didn't know what to think about Jane's absence. He hadn't bothered to get in touch with her, which hurt. She knew she'd been awful to him, but not enough that she deserved to have him take off like this without talking to her. This reminded her of the old Jane, and it was scaring her. And what kind of business could he possibly have to look after? She sighed. No point in speculating she decided. She might just as well try and relax and not think about him for a couple of days. She decided a break might be a good thing.

She went around looking and acting as if everything was fine and her colleagues all seemed to buy it. Of course most of them didn't know about her and Jane so they weren't suspicious. Even Abbott and Fischer didn't notice anything wrong. Cho, on the other hand, gave her looks, which indicated he wasn't buying her act at all. Fortunately he didn't say anything, for which she was grateful. She was pretty sure she'd fall apart if he did.

By the end of the week her worry had begun to turn to anger. How _dare_ he just take off like this and leave her without a word. What if something bad had happened? Maybe someone close to him was sick or had died. She laughed bitterly. She didn't even know if he _had_ someone close to him. Maybe she'd been right to worry. Maybe this wasn't going to work. It certainly wouldn't if she couldn't trust him not to take off on her.

She turned down an invite to go for pizza and beer after work on Friday. She didn't feel like maintaining the charade with her colleagues that everything was okay. Instead she decided to go home and wallow in self-pity. Then she was going to find a picture of Jane and throw things at it. After that she'd have an ice-cream orgy and watch chick flicks. Maybe then she'd be able to fall asleep. "Oh Jane – where the hell are you?" she whispered as she made her way home.

He was standing on her porch when she got home, leaning up against the door looking the same as always. After turning off the car engine she simply sat in her driveway, staring at him. He looked back at her and she could see his face becoming more worried the longer she sat. It was only as he stood up straight, probably deciding to check on her, that she moved.

"Well, if it isn't Patrick Jane", she said as she walked up to her front door. "Have a nice time?"

"Teresa -"

"I don't want to hear it Jane", she told him angrily. She pushed past him and tried to put the key in her lock but was so angry that her hands were shaking and it took longer than normal. All the while Jane stood silently behind her.

"Teresa, please?"

"What?" she swung around, just as her door popped open. "What do you want? You go away for days and don't bother even calling. Why should I simply welcome you back with open arms?"

It was only as he stood staring at her silently that she noticed. The light was fading but still, he looked tired and pale and – sad. It was a look she'd seen on him a few times over the years, usually when something really bad had happened or when something had brought the full force of his tragedy to the forefront. It was a look that made her want to open her arms and try and take away his pain. It also stopped her tirade cold.

"I – don't know", he finally got out, the words soft and hesitant. "Please just – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll go."

He closed his eyes briefly and when they opened again she could see the utter despair and sadness in his eyes. He turned slowly, as if to leave.

"No", Teresa grasped his arm and stopped him. "No, don't go. Come in."

He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes", she sighed. "I'm sure. That's not to say I'm not still really angry at you, and you better have a good reason for disappearing, but – I want you to come in."

"Thank you" he told her as he followed behind her. He waited until she took off her weapon and put it away and then continued behind her into her living room.

"Sit. Do you want some tea?"

"Uh – okay."

She took a deep breath and nodded. She was tempted to say to hell with the tea and rush up to him and enfold him in her arms, but was stopped by the doubt and anger that had built over the last few days. She hated the conflicting emotions and figured that a few minutes alone might help. "Sit down. I'll be right back."

"Here you go." She placed his favorite teacup on the table in front of him and then sat down in the chair opposite him. She watched as he took a sip and seemed to relax slightly.

"You make a perfect cup of tea Lisbon."

She couldn't help but smile, knowing that that was the ultimate compliment. "Well I should. You spent enough time teaching me."

"Yes, well, the lessons took."

She regarded him for the next few moments as he sat quietly drinking tea. She was even more worried now that she could see him plainly. He looked exhausted and so very unsure of himself. It reminded her of the first time she met him – when he'd been a man thoroughly broken by the tragic death of his wife and child. She had never wanted to see him like that again – and it frightened her horribly.

"Uh, I got you a present", he suddenly said. Placing his cup down he reached into his pocket and drew out a small wrapped package and handed it to her.

"A present?" she frowned down at it and then back up at Jane. He was sipping his tea again, not looking at her. With a soft shrug she began to rip off the paper.

Her breath caught at what she was holding. "Jane?"

"I – I'm sorry about that too. I should have said something then."

"You didn't have to Jane. I told you, I should have realized."

"Why?" He gave a crooked smile. "Why should you always have to guess and figure things out about me? I should just have told you but – I'm not good at that and I'm sorry."

"Oh Patrick", she looked down again at the small stuffed koala. Tears gathered in her eyes and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop them from escaping down her cheeks.

"I'm going to try Lisbon. I know I'm not good at sharing what I'm thinking or how I'm feeling. But I know I have to. I just – please, please let me try?"

What had she done? She looked at the man in front of her and it suddenly hit her how much power she had over him – the power to hurt him, to destroy him – or the power to soothe him. She could never heal him completely and she wasn't about to try – but she could bring him a measure of peace and happiness. It could be a terrible burden – or it could be a wonderful, frightening, beautiful journey together. Because, as much as she had the power to hurt or help him – so too did he have the same power over her.

"Jane, I _know_ you", she finally spoke. "I know it's hard for you and there will still be times where I get angry – and sometimes even hurt when you don't talk to me. But I love you and I know you love me. All I can do is ask that you keep trying, even knowing that you won't always succeed. Just please – promise me you won't take off like this again. I was scared."

"I'm sorry", he told her. "And I won't do it again, I promise."

"Thank you." She gave him a wobbly smile and looked down again at the koala. She wondered if he had any idea how much she was going to treasure it. It spoke volumes about his feelings for her – things he couldn't even say in words. She brought it up to her face and laid her cheek against it. "I love you, you know."

"Uh, I hope you're talking to me and not the stuffed animal", he suddenly told her.

She choked back a laugh and lifted her eyes to his. "I think the animal would be less trouble."

"Of course it would", he nodded, pleased to have made her smile. "But it's not nearly as much fun."

"But it's cute."

"Yes, but I'm cute too."

"Yes, yes you are", she said, considering him seriously. "But the animal is here, with me, and you're over there." The words had barely left her mouth when Jane was suddenly kneeling beside her chair, her hands in his. He leaned his head forward until it was lying in her lap. Of course she couldn't help but put her hands on his head, stroking gently. She felt herself begin to relax, for the first time in weeks.

"So", she said after a few moments. "Where were you?"

It took a second, but eventually Jane sat back, although he continued to kneel in front of her. "I went to get something", he told her. When she raised her eyebrow at him he smiled. "No, I'm not trying to keep it from you, in fact, I want to show you."

"Show me?"

"Mmm hmm. It's in my car. But we don't have to do it now", he told her. "We can wait."

She observed him carefully, noticing that although he seemed better he was still pale and tired looking. "Do you want to wait?" she asked.

"Uh -" He laughed softly. "Yes, but I'm afraid if we do I'll lose my courage."

"Your courage? Is it something bad."

"No – oh no, not bad, I promise." He gave her one of his brilliant smiles – the one that said he was hurting but didn't want her to know.

"It's not a tongue or anything is it?" she asked, remembering LaRoche's Tupperware box.

That made him laugh and relieved a bit of the tension. "No, I promise no tongues or any body parts. It really isn't bad Teresa – just – hard."

"Okay then, let's look at it now."

"Okay." He sat for another few seconds and then pushed himself up, looking even more tired. "I'll get it. Uh – could I have another cup of tea?"

"Of course." She stood up but before he had a chance to move she reached out and pulled him to her. Putting her arms around him she laid her head on his chest. "I missed you."

She could feel him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I missed you too."

They stayed there for a long time, simply holding each other and letting the peace of the evening wash over them. Jane took his hand and gently stroked her hair. "I love you."

She smiled up at him, loving him more now than yesterday or the day before. "I know – and that means everything", she told him.

He pulled back, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. "I'll be back in a few seconds", he told her. "Don't forget my tea!"

"I won't", she laughed. She watched as he headed for the door, her heart warming as he turned and gave her a gentle smile. It was only after he'd gone, and she moved towards the kitchen that she realized.

Jane wasn't wearing his wedding ring.


	6. Of Mementoes and Memories

_**Just a short, rather angsty chapter tonight folks. Fluff to come soon.**_

_**Thank you to my reviewers – I so appreciate you taking the time to R&R. A special thank you to Elizabeth for all your great comments and feedback. I can't respond to you directly, but please know I **__**always**__**appreciate you reviewing my stories.**_

_**For all the rest of you – a review would be so wonderful – please and thank you. Remember, it really does encourage me to write faster. Vini**_

He wasn't wearing his ring. Her heart was beating faster than normal, which was silly. It didn't mean anything, did it?

Of course it did. She couldn't help the slight smile that broke out. Jane loved her and wanted to make this work. His actions tonight proved that and she could feel the tension and worry and doubt of the last couple of weeks begin to fade.

She waited while he went out to his car to retrieve whatever it was he wanted to show her. She was curious as to what it was, and about where he'd been these past few days. He hadn't really told her and suddenly a niggling sense of worry began to return.

"Stop it Teresa", she told herself sternly.

"Stop what my dearest Lisbon", he asked as he pushed his way into the room, a large cardboard box in his hands.

"Jane. Uh nothing. What's in there?"

He didn't answer but instead set it down carefully on the floor. Strangely he didn't move for a few seconds, simply squatting down beside the box. Finally, he stood up and swung around to face her, his biggest smile shining at her. "So, where's that tea?"

"Oh – sorry, I'll just get it."

"Lisbon – you didn't forget my tea?", he asked, sounding scandalized. "And I thought you loved me."

"I do, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be your tea slave!"

"Well that's disappointing", he told her as he followed her into the kitchen. "You know that I'll be _your_ slave forever and ever -'

"If I make you tea?"

"Mmm hmm", he tilted his head and gave her his best 'sweet innocent Jane' face – the one that had conned a myriad of people.

"Don't give me that look", she told him sternly, turning the teakettle back on. "I know you too well and it won't work."

"No? But you _are_ making me tea."

She sighed and shook her head and then laughed. "You are an evil, evil man Patrick, do you know that?"

He walked up behind her and put her arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. "Am I?" he said softly.

"No" she answered gently. "You're a good man." She turned carefully until she was facing him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "And I love you and if you want I'll make you tea every day."

"You'd do that for me?" he asked, suddenly sounding serious.

"Of course", she frowned, looking at him intently. "What is it? What's wrong Patrick?"

He sighed and smiled. Giving her a quick kiss on the nose he stepped back. "Tea, woman! The water's boiling."

She regarded him for another instant and then nodded. There was something bothering him, but it could wait – at least until he got his tea. She smiled gently as she made him a cup. "Okay, here you go. Now I want you to tell me where exactly you went and what's in that box!"

He nodded slowly, holding his cup as if it was a life preserver. Without another word he returned to her living room and sat down in the corner on her couch. For a moment she was transported back to Sacramento and the CBI – watching Jane sit, all alone on his couch, holding his tea as if it were a shield against a world that had hurt him unbearably.

She moved over and sat beside him, not touching him but close enough so that he could lean against her if he needed to. Somehow she knew she couldn't press him, figuratively or literally right now. Something was going on – something profound – and she had to let him do this in his own way and his own time.

"I went to Malibu", he said quietly, his eyes focused on the floor, the tea still held but not sipped. He stopped and didn't speak for many minutes. "My house."

"What did you go there for?" she finally asked as the silence grew heavy. She so wanted to reach out, to touch him, to hold him, but she suspected he might break if she did so. "Patrick? Why did you go there?"

He licked his lips, still staring at the floor. He finally spoke, although she could tell it was difficult for him. "I – needed to show you something", he said softly.

"The box?"

He nodded. "I don't know if I can."

"Why not?"

He looked up then, and she was saddened, but not surprised to see the tears in his eyes. "I'm afraid."

"Why Patrick?" She moved closer and touched his arm. "What is it?"

He let out a small sound at that and closed his eyes. Her heart breaking for him she moved even closer and took the tea out of his hands and placed in on the coffee table. She then put her arms around him. "It's okay. You don't have to show me."

"I do" he whispered. "I need to do this."

"Why?"

"To show you – to tell you -"

"What?"

"That – I love you, more than you'll ever know and that – that I trust you and want to be open with you and share my life with you."

"I know you love me– and I love you and trust you too. It doesn't matter what's in there – you don't have to show me if you don't want to, it won't change the way I feel." She could tell he was thinking about whether or not to let it go and leave the whole thing. It was when he took a deep breath and gently removed her arms from around him that she knew he had decided.

"I want to." He stood up slowly, as if he'd aged twenty years in a few minutes, and walked over to the mysterious box. Reaching out, his hands unsteady, he pulled it over towards the couch.

He sat down heavily and regarded it almost as if it were a living thing – a malevolent thing. He gave a strained sigh and pushed his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry Teresa, I'm sure you think I'm crazy."

"I've thought that for years Jane", she told him.

He laughed at that, the mood lightening a small bit. "Of course you have. You realize that means that there's probably something wrong with you that you want to be with me."

"Yes, there probably is, but frankly I don't care. I love you, crazy or not. Actually, now that I think about it, it's probably _because_ you're crazy. I've always been attracted to -"

"To?"

"- Interesting men."

"That's good – although I'd better be your _only_ interesting man."

"You are, don't worry. Now – are you going to open the damn box? _I'm_ going crazy here."

He laughed again, although the sound was rather unsteady. He took another breath and reached for the lid. "Here goes", he murmured. He slowly pulled off the packing tape and then lifted the lid.

She'd had an idea what must be in the box. There could only be a few rare items that would affect Jane this much. As he drew off the lid she breathed out silently. She'd been correct.

Jane reached for the item on top. It was a red paper heart with sparkles and little rubber stickers all over it. Lisbon could just see the words _love _and _Daddy_ written in childish handwriting. Charlotte had obviously made this for her father for Valentine's Day. Oh God – how could he bear this?

He didn't say anything, simply touching it carefully and then laying it down on his lap and reaching for the next item – a photo album.

Lisbon didn't know if she was going to make it through this. The tears were already coursing down her cheeks. She kept glancing at Jane, but his eyes, though red, were now dry. She didn't know how he could handle this. She wondered when he'd last opened this box.

He sat looking as if at something in the far distance. A second later he blinked and took a breath. He flipped open the first page of the album.

Lisbon looked down at a picture of Jane and his wife holding a tiny baby. God, she was a beautiful woman, she thought. She'd seen pictures – of course – but they were crime scene photos. There had been a picture of Angela Jane before she'd been killed but Teresa had barely glanced at it at the time. It was before she knew Jane and she hadn't really wanted to think about the woman who had died so horribly. Instead she had concentrated on forensics reports and facts – rather than imagining the person behind the tragedy.

"She was beautiful", she said.

"She was", Jane smiled and touched the picture. "She was so happy when Charlotte was born. She'd always wanted a home and family. She was a great mother."

"I'm sure she was."

He turned to the next page – and there were more pictures of a baby Charlotte. There was one picture of her in her father's arms. He looked so young and so proud, so happy. Teresa wondered what he must have been like before tragedy had struck. There were other pictures of her smiling, crawling, in the bath. One of the most precious was of her laughing, her two tiny baby teeth sticking out.

The pictures went on and Jane slowly turned each page. She grew bigger – but still looked the happy little girl with the twinkling eyes an beautiful smile. She was blond, like her father, and would have grown up to be a beautiful girl. She couldn't imagine how painful this must be for him.

"She smiled all the time", he murmured, touching the pictures of his daughter. "She was a happy baby, a happy little girl."

"She's gorgeous. She had your smile."

"Angela always said it would get her in trouble. I think she worried that Charlotte would grow up to be like me."

"I'm sure she wasn't worried– she loved you and probably hoped Charlotte _would_ be like you."

"Do you know, when I drank the belladonna tea, I imagined what she'd be like. I imagined her just like me." He laughed softly. "She was funny and sarcastic and a total handful." He continued to look down at the pictures a small smile on his face. "She used to come in to our room in the morning and jump on the bed. She loved to try and tickle me. And she loved magic tricks. She was always asking me to pull things out of her ear or make things disappear. I told her that when she grew up she could be my assistant." He looked up at that, his eyes shining from the tears that were now being released "She never grew up Lisbon."

"I know. I'm so sorry Patrick", she whispered.

"She should have – she was so _good_. And so was Angela. There were the best thing in my life and I destroyed them."

"No you did not! You know you didn't Jane. It wasn't your fault. It's never been your fault and you have to let that go. It was an evil, sick man who did this but he's gone now too. Just love them Patrick – don't let guilt get in the way of that."

He let out a small sob and closed the album. "Oh God – I want to Lisbon, I just want to remember them like this. I want them to know that I loved them so much and that I'm sorry – sorry that I wasn't a better husband and father."

"They knew. All you have to do is look at these pictures to know that they were happy. They knew they were loved and they loved you. Don't let your guilt and their deaths destroy that memory, that knowledge."

"Did they? Do you think – tell me the truth Lisbon. When you see them – do you think they knew?"

"That you loved them. Yes, I can see it clearly –and so can you, if you really look."

He finally nodded, although she knew it would take more than this to convince him. Still, it was a start.

Jane held onto the photo album, his knuckles white from grasping the book so firmly. She reached out and touched the back of one hand. "Jane – it's okay."

He nodded again and finally set the book down on his knees. He then reached gently and reverently into the box and pulled out a soft pink baby blanket. After gazing at it for a moment he put it to his face. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply.

"It doesn't smell like her anymore", he murmured. "It should smell like her Lisbon. It always did. It smelt like strawberries and like Charlotte." He opened his eyes and looked at her, his face awash in pain. "Why doesn't it smell like her?"

"Oh Jane", she reached out and pulled him to her. "I'm so sorry." She could feel the tremors that passed through him and then something inside him broke. He began to cry into her shoulder, his body wracked with painful sobs.

Never, in all the years that she had known him, had she ever seen him break down like this. He cried and cried with deep wrenching sobs. All she could do was hold him and keep telling him that she loved him and it was going to be okay.

She had no idea how much time had passed before he began to calm. Eventually he was quiet, with only an occasional hiccup of sound, although his body still shook. She continued to hold him, only now realizing that he was holding onto her as if he would drown if he let go. She began to stroke his back, uttering soothing sounds and continuing to tell him she loved him.

Now that things were quieter and he appeared to be calming down, she began to wonder why he'd brought the box to show her. She was sure he had done it as much for her as for himself – knowing him probably more so. Yet she didn't know quite what it meant. She briefly asked herself if she should be worried. Did this prove that he couldn't let go of his wife and daughter and move on with her?

No - she didn't think that's what it was at all. In fact, she was almost positive that this was Jane's way of letting go so that he _could_ move on. It was also his way of sharing something of himself – something deep and painful, but ultimately cherished. She loved him – had loved him for a long time. Tonight had made her love him even more.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, when he'd been totally silent for too long.

She could feel him swallow and then he tried to pull back, although she kept her arms around him. "You can stay right here if you want, I don't mind."

He nodded and relaxed, although he still didn't speak. She was suddenly reminded of the time he'd admitted to having been in the psychiatric hospital – and that he felt ashamed. He was a man who liked to be in control, of himself and his surroundings and right now he had to be feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"It was my tea, wasn't it", she asked softly. "You didn't like it."

He froze for an instant and then choked. "What?" he asked into her shoulder.

"My tea", she sighed. "That's why you're upset. You pretended to like it but really you couldn't stand it." She grimaced, wondering if she was being insensitive to try and lighten things up. She opened her mouth to apologize when he spoke.

He sighed and lifted his head. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings" he chuckled softly.

"I can see that", she nodded. looking at him closely. He looked like hell, his face puffy and streaked with tears. At the same time he looked more relaxed than she'd seen him in a long time. "Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"I'm sorry", he pulled back from her and wiped his face with the back of his arm. "I don't usually cry all over people." He glanced up at that and grimaced. "I'm fine, really."

"You're sure?" she scrutinized his face carefully.

"I'm sure", he sighed. "I – really am sorry."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "No need. Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah." He was looking down at their clasped hands, clearly still too embarrassed to look her in the face.

"When was the last time you cried like that."

He grew still, but then slowly reached for the pink blanket, which had fallen onto his lap. Holding it up to his face he smiled slightly. "Never."

"_Never_? Really?"

He nodded.

"Well then, it's about time you did. And before you say anything Patrick Jane, remember that I love you – and I'm honored and touched that you would share this with me – both the memories and the tears. I love you and want to be here for you, whatever you need."

"Thank you", he said quietly. A moment later he straightened up. He carefully folded the little blanket and put it back in the box. It was followed by the album and heart. "I think that's enough for tonight."

"Yes, it is. Now, drink your tea and then I'm putting you to bed."

"Really", he smirked. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss and a soft and grateful smile. "I am tired." He took a sip.

"_Lisbon_ – my tea is cold. Can you make me another one?"


	7. Of Cuddles and Hugs

**_Thank you again to my lovely readers and reviewers. You inspire me!_**

**_This is a short chapter tonight. I was watching The Mentalist reruns and got carried away._**

She snorted softly as she poured the water for his tea. She was _not_ about to get into the habit of always making it for him, no matter what she'd said . She made another rude noise, knowing that she probably _would _make it if he asked her to. Jane had the ability to get people to do things for him – even things they swore they would never do.

However, tonight anyway he deserved to have her wait on him. It had been a grueling evening and he was both mentally and physically exhausted. It had taken a huge amount of courage, and love, for him to show her the pictures of his family. She recognized that he must be hurting, so fixing him a cup of tea was the least she could do

She headed back into the living room, only to find him slouched over on the couch, half asleep. "Hey", she said softly, "here's your tea."

"Hmm?" He blinked at her blearily. "Oh, thanks." He forced himself to sit up and take a deep breath. He reached for the tea and took a sip, closing his eyes in enjoyment. "Did I tell you -"

"- that I make a good cup of tea? Yes you did."

"That's not what I was going to say", he corrected her with a shake of his head and a smirk.

"No?"

"No. I was going to say that you need a new couch. This one isn't nearly as comfortable as the one in your old office."

"You bought me that one."

"So you're telling me you want me to buy you a new one for your house _too_?"

She just grinned at him, enjoying the light banter. She could tell from the bruised look around his eyes that he was still feeling the affects of the evening and probably needed a break.

"The things I do for you woman!" he muttered, taking another sip of tea.

"That you do for _me_? Who's the one who made you three cups of tea?"

"And did I tell you that you make a great one?"

She laughed and shook her head. He really was crazy. In a moment her laughter died as she saw that he was drooping again. She reached over and took the teacup from him. "Come on, I'm putting you to bed." She stood up, grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. He almost stumbled from exhaustion.

"Are you going to have your wicked way with me?" he asked as he was pulled towards the bedroom.

"Unfortunately I'm afraid you'd be too tired to enjoy it."

He sighed. "Sad, but probably true. I could just lie there and let you do all the work."

"You usually do."

He stopped dead causing her to stop as well. "What? I do not", he told her indignantly.

She laughed again, realizing that he had taken her words to mean something very different from what she had intended. "I don't mean in _bed_", she informed him. "You – work very hard there. I meant otherwise."

"Oh", he appeared to be mollified and followed as she pulled him towards the bed. "And anyway, I don't let you do all the work. I'll have you know I work very hard. I just hide it really well."

"Hmm", she snorted. Well right now you _don't_ have to work." She gently pushed him down on the bed, knowing he would have fallen over in a second if left on his own. The poor man looked dead on his feet. "I want you to go to sleep."

"Okay – but first", he nodded towards the bathroom.

"Can you make it on your own?"

"I'll have you know Teresa, that I have been doing it on my own since I was three years old", he informed her huffily. He stood, still unsteady, and with a glare made his way over to the bathroom. He had to use all his willpower to keep from falling over. He was _so_ tired.

She was waiting for him when he returned but didn't say anything. Instead she pushed him down so that he was seated on the bed and began to unbutton his shirt. He attempted to help but she swatted away his hands. "Just relax, I've got this."

He sighed and looked miserable. "A beautiful woman is undressing me and I'm too tired to do anything about it." He peered up at her, squinting because of tiredness. "That's sad Teresa."

"Yes it is", she agreed. "You can make it up to me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow", he sighed again, his eyes blinking more and more slowly. He began to sway and once she had removed his shirt she gently pressed him back until he was lying flat on the bed. She helped him turn and lift his legs onto the mattress and then began to undo his pants.

She next moved to his shoes and tossed them into the corner of the room to his half-hearted protests. "I won't steal them or lose them", she promised. "They'll be there in the morning. I promise."

"Kay", he nodded, trying to smile. He then laughed softly as she began to pull down his pants until he was wearing nothing but his boxers. Now his eyes were almost closed, although he seemed to be trying to fight sleep.

She managed to pull the covers out from underneath him – with little or no help from the man himself – and then covered him. Leaning down she gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

As she stood to leave he reached out and grabbed her hand. "Stay with me", he murmured. As Teresa looked down on him she grimaced slightly. Even though he was almost asleep, he still looked lost and in need of comfort.

"Of course. I'm just going to wash up and get my pajamas on. I'll be right back."]

"Kay" he mumbled again, his eyes finally closing. By the time she had returned he was sound asleep, curled up tightly on his side.

"Oh Jane", she murmured, climbing into bed with him. Wrapping her arms around him she snuggled in close, needing the comfort as much as he did. "Sleep my darling. I'll be here."

She groaned softly as the warm sunlight touched her cheek. It had to be too early to get up, didn't it? She pried her eyes open, positive they were stuck together with crazy glue, only to shut them again when the light hit them. Yup, it was morning.

She allowed herself to drift off, knowing that it was Saturday and there wasn't anywhere she needed to be, except here, with him. A soft noise at her side startled her and she flipped onto her side, her heart beating in double time.

Jane! He was still curled up, still sound asleep. She couldn't help the grin that split her face. He looked so innocent and adorable lying there. She wanted to reach out and ruffle his blond locks, but instead just watched him. For a fleeting moment she wondered what he had looked like as a child. She was sure he had been cute - and sweet and charming, just like now.

It was unusual that she got the chance to watch him while he slept. He still suffered insomnia, although he swore he was better than he had been, and he was always up before her in the mornings. In fact, he would only only stay in bed for a short time, just enough time for her to fall asleep, and he'd be up, prowling around the house.

So seeing him sleeping so soundly at – she glanced over at the clock – 9:30 in the morning was a rarity. She smiled and continued to watch him, enjoying the site of a quiet, sleeping, _peaceful-_looking Patrick Jane.

In the end, though, nature called and she had to get up and leave him sleeping. On top of that she was ravenous.

She managed to eat and then had showered and dressed while Jane continued to sleep. Glancing at her watch she was surprised to see it was after 11:00. The poor man must have been absolutely exhausted. She wondered if he'd gotten any sleep this week.

No sooner had she thought that when she heard a sound coming from the bed. A soft groan had her moving toward it and she peered down at the man who was now starting to wake up. She perched beside him and kept vigil over him as he moved from the realm of Morpheus to the conscious, awake world.

His lids cracked open, just enough so she could see a sliver of his green gray eyes – eyes that seemed to be looking far away. A pause and then he took a measured, deep breath. He swallowed and his head turned until those eyes were watching her. She looked, mesmerized as a slow, beautiful smile lit his face. "Hey Lisbon", he sighed softly. "You're here?"

"Yes, I'm here", she smiled in return. "How are you feeling?"

"Hmm?" his mouth turned down, not in sadness but in contemplation and he looked as if he was considering his answer seriously. "Good. I feel good." His head flopped to the side as he continued to breathe slowly. "What time is it?"

"It's almost 11:30", she informed him.

"What?" he looked confused. "In the morning?"

"Well, unless the sun has decided to come out at night then yes."

"But I never sleep that long."

"Well, you did this time. You were obviously tired. Did you sleep at all this week?"

He regarded her for a few seconds and then shrugged. "A bit." Suddenly he grinned. "Hey, are you going to bring me tea in bed?"

"Nope", she told him, her eyebrows raised.

"But you promised."

"I lied", she told him, a smirk on her face.

He looked shocked for a moment and then laughed. "Touché! Okay, if you're going to be mean then you can at least come here and give me a kiss."

She leaned towards him and then stopped, a strange look flashing across her face.

"What's wrong?" he wanted to know, worried.

She shook her head, looking serious. "Morning breath."

"I do _not_ have morning breath", he told her indignantly. "And anyway, if you really loved me you wouldn't care."

She laughed and then leaned forward and kissed him briefly. "You're right. Are you hungry?"

He didn't answer but instead pulled her down until she was sprawled across him. "Mmm hmm", he answered.

"You want some eggs?" she asked, choking back a laugh as he kissed her neck.

"Nope – I want some Teresa Lisbon." He suddenly moved and flipped her onto her back, leaning over her with a naughty grin. "Over easy."

The next hour was full of fun and passion, but above all it was full of love. When they were finished, both exhausted, sated but happy, Teresa lay there, cuddled beside him. He had his arm underneath and wrapped around her and gently stroked her arm as he relaxed into the warm mattress and the even warmer woman.

She finally reached up and grasped his hand and held on tightly, wishing she could stay here forever. "You took off your ring", she said softly. It was only as the words left her mouth that she realized what she had said, and she froze. She hadn't meant to mention it – it was just that she was relaxed and not thinking.

"I did", he agreed calmly and then turned on his side and faced her. "I should have done it a long time ago", he told her seriously. "I'm sorry." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It was a habit more than anything else. Look, I won't deny that there's always going to be a place in my heart for Angela, but that doesn't mean I love you any less. She was my past life, you're my future."

When Teresa didn't say anything he could feel a sinking in his stomach and couldn't bear to look at her. He knew they needed to talk more and he needed to explain the ring in more detail, but he didn't think he was up to another emotional conversation. He simply wanted to rest and enjoy being with her. Now he wondered if he'd messed things up. It wasn't until he felt her hand on his face, turning it towards her, that he was able to meet her eyes.

"Thank you", she said softly. Leaning forward she gave him a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips. "I understand and I love you."

He smiled in relief and gently pulled her down until she was half lying on him. "And Teresa."

"Yes."

"Don't ever be afraid to ask me or to tell me if something bothers you, okay? I won't break and I'd rather you be honest with me."

"Okay", she nodded into his chest. A few heartbeats later she began to speak. "Jane?"

"What?"

"There is something that bothers me."

Uh oh – he suddenly wondered if he'd opened a door he should have left closed. Oh well – he'd asked for this. "What?"

"You haven't given me the key to your Airstream."

"What?" he lifted his head suddenly, almost knocking into hers. He wanted to laugh with relief. Damn but he loved her. "You want my _key_?"

"Yes."

"God woman – you don't ask for much, do you? Next I suppose you'll want my car keys too."

She pondered for a moment. "No. You can keep those."

He sighed and pulled her closer. "Okay fine, I'll get you the keys to my home." He lay there enjoying the quiet and the closeness and the fact that he was looking forward, for the first time in many years, to a good life, a happy life.

"Hey –wait a minute" he pushed himself up, forcing her to readjust her position. "You haven't given me the keys to your place either!"

She smiled and snuggled in closer. Life with Jane was not going to be boring.

\


	8. Of Friends and Family

_**As always - thank you to those of you who take the time to read and review. Your comments mean so much ...**_

_**I've read a number of fantastic fics on this site (and a lot of really good post-Blue Bird fics) - in fact many that are much better than mine. I'm debating continuing or putting an end to this story - please let me know if you'd like me to continue. If not, I'll wrap it up in a chapter or two.**_

_**Thank you!**_

"So, did your sister know you wanted to sleep with her?"

"She was my _step_-sister and you're sick! I didn't want to sleep with her." Joel Davis took a step back, and gave his mother a quick, difficult to read look.

"How _dare_ you!" Emily Matherson hissed at Jane. She surged to her feet and pointed her finger at the consultant from the FBI. "I'm going to have your badge for this. Who do you think you are?" She swung around towards her husband, who sat quietly, his face pale with anguish and loss. "Are you going to let him get away with this? He's accused my son of – of – oh, for God's sake Frank, don't just sit there, _do_ something."

"What do you want me to do Emily?" her husband said tiredly. "The man just asked a question and Joel answered it. Just let it go."

"Let it _go_! He accused my son of incest."

"Actually", Jane answered, his hand gently tapping his lips. "I didn't. I said he _wanted_ to sleep with her, not that he did. Sara wouldn't have agreed. It's interesting, don't you think, that the first thing he said in reply was that she was his _step_-sister, most likely trying to justify that it wouldn't really have been incest. And, oh, I don't actually have a badge. It's more of a card -"

The next thing anyone knew, a resounding slap echoed through the elegant living room of the Matherson's home. Jane looked surprised and rubbed his cheek with his hand. Lisbon rolled her eyes and stepped forward.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Matherson. I'm sure Mr. _Jane_", she glanced over and scowled at the consultant, "didn't mean anything by his comments. Sometimes we have to ask uh – difficult questions. You understand it's all part of the investigation. Our sole purpose is to try and find out who killed your daughter."

"_Step_-daughter", Jane interjected with a quirk of his lips. "What?" he gave Teresa a hurt look after receiving the Lisbon 'glare of death'. "Joel was careful to clarify that he was Sara's step-brother so I figured she would want us to be accurate. That's right isn't it Mr. Matherson", he turned towards the defeated looking man on the sofa. "Your wife was Sara's step-mother?"

"Yes", he sighed. "Her mother died of cancer when she was eight. I married Emily two years later. I'd hoped -" he paused and took a breath. "I'd hoped she could be a real mother to Sara."

"But it didn't happen?" Jane eyed Emily Matherson warily and took a step closer to her husband just to be safe from further assault. Teresa just shook her head and watched it all play out.

"No – no, they never really got along."

"So, Joel loved Sara but his mother didn't?" Jane looked at the two people who were both glaring at him. "What -"

"_Jane_!" Teresa warned. "That's all for now Mr. and Mrs. Matherson. We may need to come back to ask you a few more questions but for now that's everything. Again, I'm sorry for your loss and be assured that we'll do everything we can to find out who killed Sara and bring that person to justice."

"I don't want him back in our house", Emily jerked her head at Jane. "You're welcome Agent Lisbon but if he steps one foot on our property I will call the Attorney General, who happens to be a friend of my husband!"

Teresa raised her eyebrows at the older woman. "You do what you have to do Ma'am, and so will we."

Lisbon didn't speak on the way to the car, her manner showing her irritation. Jane followed along behind, his lips held tightly in concern. Damn it! He'd been trying so hard and now he'd screwed things up again. When would he ever learn?

It had gone well the last couple of weeks. They were getting into a rhythm in their relationship and although things could still get awkward because of their new way of being together, they were managing. It was strange, he thought briefly, in some ways they were so familiar with one another but in others everything was new.

Jane had experienced more than his share of angst as they moved into this new phase. He sometimes still had trouble believing that he deserved her, let alone any kind of happiness. But that feeling was fading as each day went by. Partly that was Lisbon herself – her love and acceptance had already started the healing years ago. Now that that love was acknowledged it was speeding the process even more. But it wasn't just her, for Patrick knew that for this to work he _had_ to believe, to feel he was worthy of her love and to build a relationship of equals.

Still, he continued to try and be better, to do better. He held his tongue, he resisted drawing his teammates into any of his schemes, and tried to stay clear of any 'pickles'. He smiled at that – it was such a Teresa thing to say and something he'd always remember – one of the best moments in his life in fact.

He pulled his mind back from that day at the airport and instead concentrated on Teresa's straight and rigid back as she stamped towards the car. Yup, he'd done it again. He'd opened his mouth and now she would probably get into trouble. He had to figure out how he was going to fix this.

After getting into the car Teresa sat and stared out the window, her mind on the scene they'd just left. It was the first time, since that wonderful, embarrassing moment on the plane, that she'd seen him act like his old self. He'd been blunt, embarrassing and just plain rude to the Mathersons, or at least to Emily and to Joel Davis. And the fact that Emily's husband was a wealthy businessman and friend to the Mayor, Attorney General and probably every other person of importance in Phoenix hadn't helped. Why was it that he always seemed to insult important people?

Why had he done it, Jane castigated himself as the silence continued? Because he hated the arrogance and assumption of people that, because they were 'rich, famous, well-connected, etc' they didn't have to answer to the same authority as everyone else. That's why! And so he liked bursting their bubbles, as much as he could anyway. The problem was he got carried away and forgot that his words could hurt – not the people to whom they were addressed because he didn't care about them – but Lisbon and his team.

_So why the hell didn't he think before he opened his mouth?_

"So", Teresa took a cleansing breath and let her shoulders relax. With a serious look on her face she spoke to the unusually quiet man next to her. "Sounds like the old Jane is back."

He grimaced and forced himself to face her – and his actions. "I'm sorry", he said. "I – uh – didn't think."

Her brows lifted in surprise. She was pretty sure that was one of the few – if not only – times that Jane had apologized so quickly or sincerely after one of his outrageous 'let's insult the victim' routines. "You didn't _think_?" she asked incredulously. "That's new, isn't it? Since when does the great Patrick Jane not think?"

"Hey, I don't mean I didn't think about the case – because I already know who the murderer is – I meant I didn't think about the fact that you could get in trouble. So, I'm sorry."

She nodded slightly, and then a small smile burgeoned on her face. A moment later it had turned to a full-blown grin. That was followed, seconds later by a snort which ended in loud and long laughter.

Jane watched her, at first with surprise, but a moment later his own smile began to appear until he now supported a big grin. "So, you're telling me you're not upset with me?"

"What?" she gasped, still laughed hard. "The look on her _face_, when you accused her" she laughed again, "and her precious son. Oh God Jane – I've missed you!"

Jane deduced things through reason, observation, and a finely honed knowledge of people's behavior. So it didn't take him long to figure it out. Teresa wasn't upset with him – in fact she was glad he'd returned to his old behavior. Who would have figured!

God – the relief. Here he'd been _killing_ himself trying to be a better person, completely forgetting the fact that she loved the old Jane – or at least _most_ of the old Jane. He knew she was glad he'd left off some things – the main thing being his obsession with Red John – but she clearly didn't want him to change completely. The knowledge was liberating and made him appreciate, even more, how really, really lucky he was.

"So, you're telling me you don't mind when I -" He motioned with his hand, "You know – when I -"

"Insult the victims of a serious crime? Oh, I'll probably still mind sometimes, and it will still get me in trouble, but I confess I've grown to appreciate your tactics. And as long as _I_ don't say those things, I'll admit to enjoying it when you do. I mean, Emily Matherson? What a complete _bitch_. I wanted to slap _her_!"

Teresa wanted to laugh, at herself, at Jane, hell, at everything. How many years had she railed against Jane's ways at a crime scene? How often had she scolded him for his rudeness, his bluntness towards victims? How often had she prayed he'd, _for once_ use a little tact? Well, for the past few weeks that's exactly what he'd done and it had driven her crazy. Her world had been tilted on its axis since she sat in seat 12B, and his 'too good' behavior tilted it just a little too far. Instead of enjoying the peace, she'd hated that he was no longer Jane – at least when they were working.

Well now – Jane was back – and she loved it. She would just have to be careful not to encourage him too much.

"Yes she's quite a piece of work. I feel sorry for him though." Jane's voice interrupted her thoughts and she dragged herself back to the present case.

"Who the son?"

"Joel? No – he's a spoiled brat. I don't feel sorry for him at all. No, I meant Frank. He's lost his daughter and he's about to lose his wife." He sighed and became somber. "I hope he can find someone who loves him, otherwise he's going to be a very lonely man."

Teresa watched her man – she still couldn't quite believe she could even _think_ that – and knew that he was showing her a glimpse into his soul. He had rarely done it in the past, but now he was attempting to be more open with her. She understood that it still frightened him, this openness, this relationship and she never pushed, but once in a while he'd let something slip. She reached out with her hand and gently laid it on top of his. "I love you", she told him softly. "And I'll make sure _you're_ never lonely again."

The blinding smile that met her words – an honest, open, loving smile – was so different from those ones he'd often worn to hide his real feelings that she couldn't help but lean forward and kiss him, even though they were on a case. He was surprised, she could tell, but after a brief hesitation kissed her back warmly.

A minute later she pulled her thoughts together and leaned back. With a smile she straightened her shirt and took a deep breath. "So, I guess we'd better go solve this one huh?"

The next day they arrested Emily Matherson for the murder of Sara, her stepdaughter. A short time spent with Cho and she'd confessed that she'd suspected her son of having inappropriate feelings for his step-sister and had killed her to 'protect' her baby. Joel, when he'd heard what she'd done, told her didn't want to ever see her again. Her husband told her the same thing – in much harsher words, and ended his scathing verbal attack by telling her he hoped the prosecutor went for the death penalty. He walked away, on his way to call his lawyer and initiate divorce proceedings.

After that call he had called his friend the Attorney General and had commended the 'professionalism and fine detective work' of Agents Lisbon and Jane. The result was a very happy Abbott. Jane, of course, exploited the chief agent's good mood.

"I convinced Abbott to give us some time off", Jane told Lisbon that evening over dinner.

"You what?"

"Got us two days off. Abbott was really happy about the Matherson case and I told him it was exhausting and that you needed a couple of days to rest."

"Jane", she laughed. "It was not exhausting at all. You figured it out almost instantly and all it took was one search warrant to locate the gun and arrest Emily Matherson."

"Meh", he said, giving a quick, sharp gesture with his hand. "Any murder case is exhausting, especially when it has to do with someone's child. So anyway, I was saying, we have a couple of days free – what do you say about going on a little trip."

She eyed him carefully; curious as to what this was about. "A trip? We just got back from Florida."

"I know, but this will be different."

"Different how – and where do you plan to take me?"

"Anywhere and everywhere I can dear Lisbon."

She laughed at the double entendre and swatted him on the arm. "I had no idea you had this in you."

"Had what?"

"This – naughtiness", she told him, thinking back on some of the more adventurous times they'd had since Florida.

"_All_ men have it in them Teresa."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, so spill. Where are you planning on taking me?"

"How about San Francisco?" he asked seriously. "I thought we could go visit Rigsby and Van Pelt."

"Really?" she turned her head to look at him. "What a great idea. Do you think they'd mind?."

"I know they wouldn't", he informed her. "I called to check that they'd be around and they're thrilled to have us come. Grace said they just finished fixing up their guest room so we can stay with them."

Teresa gave him a blinding smile and a hug. As much as she felt like they were taking time off under false pretenses, she had really missed Wayne and Grace and looked forward to seeing them and her Goddaughter and little Ben. She had a pretty good suspicion that Jane was doing this for her. It's not that he didn't care for Wayne and Grace, because he did – but he also knew this would mean the world to her.

Thinking of the Rigsby's made her remember back to the conversation she had with Grace just a few short weeks ago. She had known that Cho would call Rigsby and tell him about the _Great Plane Caper_, unless she could get to Grace first. For some reason it was important to her that she break the news to her friend before anyone else.

She'd managed to give Grace a quick call before they headed off to Austin, while still in Florida. Jane had taken a cab to the car rental place to pick up their ride and she'd taken the time to get in touch with her friend. She smiled when she thought of the call.

"_Lisbon? Hi, how is everything going?"_

"Uh – good Grace, great. How are Wayne and the kids?" They chatted for a few minutes about the latest antics of the Rigsby clan. It wasn't too long before there was a pause.

"_So, what's up? When are you headed to DC? I'm assuming Marcus already left?"_

Teresa could instantly hear the concern and hesitation in the other woman's voice. Grace hadn't said anything directly, but she knew her friend well enough to know she hadn't approved of her relationship with Marcus Pike. Even though she was too loyal to say anything directly, her dismay at Teresa's choice had been obvious.

"Yes, Marcus left a few days ago. But I'm afraid there's been a slight change of plans."

"_Really_?" The curiosity was thick in Van Pelt's voice. "_What do you mean?"_

"I've decided not to go to DC", she answered in a rush. "In fact, I've broken it off."

There was a moment of dead silence on the other end of the line and then a quiet sigh. _"I'm sorry Teresa. Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine", she smiled and wondered if Grace could hear it in her voice. She felt a momentary sense of guilt over the fact that she was so happy and poor Marcus was probably suffering.

"_What happened?_"

"I realized I didn't love him", she said simply. "I convinced myself that I did, but when it came right down to it I knew that I was in love with love, not with him."

"_Oh thank God!"_

"Grace?" Teresa laughed, surprised at her friend.

"_I was worried sick that you'd move up there and then realize you didn't love him. I'm so glad you came to your senses in time."_

"You could have said something to me you know."

"_Right, and have you bite my head off? No Teresa, you had to figure this out on your own."_

Teresa grimaced slightly when she thought about the fact that she hadn't really figured it out on her own at all.

Grace must have read her mind because at that moment she spoke. "_So, what did make you realize he wasn't the right one?"_

Here it came. Teresa took a deep breath and held it for a second. Letting the air out of her lungs slowly she said a brief prayer. "Well, it was Jane actually."

"_Jane?"_ Grace said, sounding pleased. "_What did he say?"_

"That he couldn't imagine waking up and not seeing me."

"_No!"_

"And that he loved me."

"_Oh my GOD Teresa. He actually told you? FINALLY!" _The sound from the other end suddenly became muffled but Teresa could still hear her friend. _"Wayne – Jane finally told her – that he loved her idiot!" _She came back on._ "Teresa – I can't believe it. And what did you say?"_

For the next fifteen minutes Teresa told her what had happened – at least up until the time Jane had been released from TSA custody and they returned to the hotel. She wasn't about to share anything more with her friend, feeling like it would be a betrayal of Jane to say too much.

"_So what happens now?"_

"We're heading back to Austin. Jane just went to pick up the car. After that – I don't quite know. I mean, we're in love and we're going to pursue a relationship but – we haven't exactly talked about next steps or anything. That'll come but for now I'm just going to enjoy this."

"_This is so great Teresa. I'm happy for you both. Oh God, I still can't believe it. I wondered if he'd ever get the courage up to tell you how he felt. Wayne didn't think he would but I suspected he might. The smartest thing you ever did was start dating Marcus."_

Teresa laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. There's nothing like a bit of competition to get a guy moving."

Teresa snorted softly as she returned to the present, to see Jane looking at her with a quizzical look on his face. "Where did you go?"

"Sorry, just thinking about Grace. She knew for a long time how you felt about me you know."

"I know. It's a good thing she was in San Francisco."

"Why?"

"She would have given me hell."

"For being an idiot."

"I wasn't – okay, so I was and yes she would have."

She grinned. "I'm so looking forward to seeing her. Thank you."

They flew out Wednesday immediately after work, arriving late in the evening in San Francisco. Wayne picked them up at the airport, after giving Teresa a hug. He looked unsure of how to greet Jane, standing awkwardly with a half-grin on his face.

"Oh, come here!" Jane reached out and gave the big guy a hug, which was returned enthusiastically. "It's good to see you Rigsby", Jane said, stepping back.

"You too." He reached over and took Teresa's case. "So, I hear the two of you finally got your acts together. That's great you know. We're really happy for you."

"Thanks. Now all we have to do is find someone for Cho and the whole team will be set."

Wayne laughed and led them to his car, chatting all the way.

The four friends stayed up late that evening, talking over old times and laughing at some of the crazier things they'd done – most of which had been initiated by Jane. As the evening drew to a close, the mood became sad as they thought of those they'd lost over the years. It was Rigsby who brought them back by refusing to let them dwell on those thing too long.

"So, is it true that you forced your way onto an airplane?" he asked Jane, who was looking lost in not-so-nice memories.

"Huh?" he glanced up, not sure what had been said.

"Cho said you jumped a fence at the airport and forced your way onto a plane. Is that true?"

"Well", he shrugged, "sort of. I didn't actually _force_ my way on. I asked the flight attendant to open the door, and she did. Not very security conscious I've got to say."

"Hah!" his love rolled her eyes. "He told her he was FBI."

"And I was – am – but I didn't have a badge. She should never have let me in."

"Are you sorry she did?"

Jane grew serious and both Grace and Wayne stared at him in wonder. Neither had ever seen quite such an expression on him before.

"No, of course not. It's the best thing I ever did."

"Yes it was", Teresa smiled softly. It took her a moment to remember they weren't lone and she blushed and coughed "Sorry."

"Oh don't apologize", Grace told her. "It's so romantic!"

That night, as they made their way upstairs to bed, Grace stopped Jane. "I'm happy for you Patrick", she told him softly, giving him a big hug.

He had to swallow a couple of times before he could even _attempt_ to speak. He'd always known that Grace had a warm heart, but it gave him an incredible feeling to realize that she really cared about him. "Thank you", he whispered. He leaned back and smiled and then gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you Grace", he said again, and it wasn't just her words he was thanking her for – but all the years of her friendship.

They were woken up the next morning, early, by the piping voices of two young children who were _trying_ to be as quiet as mice and _not_ wake up their Aunty Teresa and Uncle Patrick. Of course at this age trying to be quiet didn't quite work.

"I think the munchkins are up", Jane muttered, his eyes closed.

"Mmm", murmured Lisbon, mostly asleep.

With a sigh Jane opened his eyes, and allowed himself the opportunity of just looking at the woman at his side. He still had trouble believing all this and some days expected her to disappear in a puff of smoke – at which time he'd realize it was only a dream. He carefully reached out and touched her shoulder just to prove to himself that she was there.

"Hi", she smiled at his touch. "Sleep well?"

"I always sleep well with you", he told her as he nuzzled her neck. And the fact was it was true. He hadn't slept so well in years as he had done since they'd gotten together.

"Good, but now I think we'd better get up."

"Aaaaagh", he groaned. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, we do or else I expect a little Rigsby is going to be jumping on us at any moment.

"Fine. I deserve a huge cup of tea for this!"

She laughed and pushed him out of bed. Following a joint shower – which took longer than it should because of them getting dirty before deciding to get clean – they dressed and made their way downstairs.

"_Auntie Teresa"_, Ben shouted, catapulting himself into his honorary aunt.

"Hey kiddo – how are you?" Teresa picked him up and gave him a hug.

"I'm fine. Daddy got me a new bike", he told her proudly. "Do you want to see it?"

"You can show it to her after breakfast Ben", his father instructed. "Right now Auntie Teresa wants breakfast. And you need to say hi to Uncle Patrick."

Ben looked shy but after some prodding from his father walked up and held his hand out. Jane took it and shook it solemnly. "It's a wonderful thing to get a new bike. What color is it?"

"It's green", Ben said excitedly. "And it has racing handle bars and lights that go around on the wheels. Do you want to see it?"

"I would love to. Rigsby, do we have a few minutes for young Benjamin to show me his bike?"

"Sure", his father yielded. "Just no riding it without your helmet!"

Ben grabbed Jane's hand and dragged him to the back door. He gave Teresa a grin and a wink and then was gone.

"He's great with kids", Wayne commented, still looking at the door where his son and friend had just exited. "It always makes me sad when I see him around them though. I can't help but think of his daughter."

"Me too", Lisbon nodded, turning just in time to see Grace enter the room with a rosy cheeked Maddy in her arms. "Well there's my precious baby", she cooed, reaching out and accepting the little girl in her arms.

"Where's Patrick?" Grace asked, heading to the stove for a coffee now that she had a rare moment of child-free time.

"Ben's showing him his bike", her loving husband told her.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid Jane is going to have a hero-worshipper after this."

"Good", Teresa smiled. "He needs that in his life."

"And _you're_ not a hero-worshiper?" Grace asked, sounding a little cheeky.

"No, of course not", she answered seriously. "I've known him too long so I know all his faults and short-comings. Okay, okay so there are _parts_ of him I worship." At Wayne's rather sick look she laughed. "Sorry Wayne, I'll try and keep it PG."

"Yes please", he answered. "There are children present."

Teresa spent a pleasant hour chatting to her friends and playing with little Maddie. She didn't remember when she'd enjoyed anything more (except, of course, all the various encounters with Jane over the past weeks). The little girl seemed to love her and the two of them had a great time. Maddie was such a beautiful child, she thought as she watched the little girl play.

Soon the little girl grew tired, rubbing her eyes and beginning to get whiny. They'd told Wayne and Grace to get away for a couple of hours while they babysat, so Teresa was about to pick up the little girl when Jane beat her to it.

"You're tired sweetheart", he said softly, kissing her on the cheek. He made his way to the sofa and sat down, speaking soft nonsense to her. It didn't take long before her head was resting on his shoulder and the next moment she was sound asleep.

Looking at the two of them – Jane looking happier and more relaxed then she'd ever seen him – and a beautiful innocent child - a sudden longing grew in Teresa, one she'd never truly experienced before. It snuck up on her so quickly she took in a sharp breath. She wanted a child.


	9. Of Peace and Contentment

_**Thank you everyone for your kind comments. Since people seem to want me to continue ... here it goes.**_

Life was strange. Six months ago she never would have pictured herself in her bed, Jane beside her propped up on pillows, reading a book. It was surreal and mind-blowing and oh, so wonderful. She breathed softly and slowly, just allowing herself to enjoy the moment.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he flipped the page, intent on his book on how to grow a vegetable garden. She wanted to laugh at the fact that he'd gone from a man obsessed with exacting revenge on his wife and child's killer to a man intent on something so mundane. He seemed to take delight now in everyday, simple things – things that many would find boring, but not Jane.

"You're thinking too loudly", he told her, not taking his eyes off his book.

"You can't hear me think!"

"Yes I can. Relax Teresa, everything's fine."

"I know", she sighed, snuggling back into her pillow. Jane reached out with his hand and took hers, even though he continued to read.

And she did know. In fact, not only was everything fine, it was great. She was enjoying life more than she had in years; hell more that she ever had, if she were being honest. Her career was going well, life with Jane was – if not perfect, then at least _almost_ perfect. She had friends, and a home and – just about everything she needed or wanted.

A small thought poked at the back of her mind, but she refused to let it take hold. Yes, seeing the Rigsby kids had brought out all sorts of thoughts and feelings and made her realize her clock wasn't just ticking; it was almost ready to run out. Still, she wasn't sure she wanted to disturb what they had, or even to hope for something that would probably never happen. She was happy with where they'd gotten to, in spite of everything, and she didn't want anything to destroy that. It had been fought for too long and too hard, by both of them.

For many years she'd pitied Jane. She'd felt sorry for a man so wounded, so damaged that he'd put his entire life on hold to exact a horrible revenge. He had been obsessed with one thing – and that one thing had consumed everything and had practically destroyed him. Yes, she had felt sorry for him. What she hadn't realized, until only recently, was that she had been equally as guilty of obsession.

She had been obsessed with her career, with finding justice for people and then she had become obsessed with Jane himself. There had been many times where she could have stepped away, where she could have refused to have any part in his horrible quest, but she hadn't. No, she had followed him and stood by him and helped him reach his goal, no matter her declarations that she would stop him.

Well she hadn't. She had helped him find Red John and she had let him exact his revenge. Even if she hadn't been with him, she had been behind him. Yes, she had been consumed by him, even though she hadn't admitted it to herself.

But now they had embarked on a new life, a life free from darkness and obsession. Instead they had settled into a healthy and warm and tender domesticity. Her eyes took on a wistful look as she tried to tell herself that what they had was enough.

"Okay", Jane put his book down. "What is it?"

She instantly moved so that she was curled into him. "Nothing."

"Teresa!" he warned.

"No, really. I'm just thinking how nice this is."

"Nice? That's all you can say? I'm insulted."

She giggled. "Well you shouldn't be. Nice is – wonderful. I love being here with you. I like that you want to learn how to grow vegetables and that we can go to the library together, or shopping or just – lie around and do nothing. It's -"

"Nice! Wow, if I'd known how easy to please you were I would have -"

"You would have what?" she asked curiously at his pause.

"Uh – taken up gardening a long time ago."

She swatted his shoulder. "Right – between solving crimes and searching for a serial killer you would have grown tomatoes!"

"Mmm, beans actually."

"You hate beans."

"I do not", he said indignantly. "I like beans, I just don't like -" he stopped dead, looking guilty.

She pushed herself up on her elbow. "You hate _my_ beans, is that what you're trying to say?"

He grimaced. "Well, you've made me promise not to lie to you anymore."

"Fine", she flopped back. "I'll never make them for you again."

"Oh thank God", he whispered. That earned him a well-deserved punch in the shoulder. Of course he couldn't let that go unanswered and soon they were wrestling around the bed.

Teresa had actually been surprised at how strong Patrick was. He certainly had no particular fighting skills, but he wasn't the wuss she'd sometimes thought him. One of the things she'd discovered, which had surprised her, was that he did exercise. He loved to swim and went to the gym regularly. It meant he was trim and strong and she loved his great body – a fact that pleased him no end.

Of course the wrestling on the bed soon turned into something else equally as tiring, but much more fun. Much later Jane looked down at her, his hair somewhat wild and damp with sweat. "So tell me that was _nice."_

"_Very_ nice", she said with a waggle of her brows.

"Wanna try that again" he said, pinning her arms to her sides as he sat on top of her.

"Okay, okay", she laughed. "It was wonderful, amazing, fantastic. The great lover Patrick Jane struck again."

"Much better", he leaned down and gave her one final, passionate kiss and then flopped over beside her. "You tired me out woman."

"Good." A second passed. "Jane?"

"What?" he asked, his eyes closed and his body relaxed.

"I'm hungry. Would you make me some pancakes?"

The days continued and life fell into a pattern. Jane spent most of his time at her apartment, although they hadn't said anything yet about moving in together officially. She knew it would have to come from him. As relaxed as he appeared most days, she knew he still suffered moments of fear and doubt. He needed a place he could flee to when things got too much for him. Fortunately he seemed to need that less and less.

He'd even begun to leave a few things at her place. It's not that he had that much to begin with. But now she was starting to find his books lying around and he had an entire drawer of clothing in her dresser. She had laughed when one of his shirts – one of the damned South American ones – had made its way into her closet.

The next day she'd gone out and bought him a toothbrush and had placed it in the cup beside her own. She'd been touched by his reaction when he'd seen it. Tears had gathered in his eyes and he'd grabbed her and hugged her. Who would have figured that a toothbrush would affect him that much? But then again, he'd reacted in a similar fashion over the socks she'd once given him.

She felt rather badly that there was nothing more she could do for him. He'd showered her with things – everything from clothing to jewelry to funny little gifts to make her laugh. She wanted to return the favor, but hadn't figured out what he would enjoy – beyond toothbrushes and socks. She'd tried to ask him and he'd looked surprised and then uttered his famous "meh – I don't need anything but you Teresa". As flowery as it had sounded she was positive he was entirely serious – a fact which humbled her greatly.

Work was going well. They continued to have the highest solve rate of any team and for the most part Abbott was pleased. Jane still pulled some of his usual tricks and there were days when she was sure their boss was going to lock him up in detention again. But, like always, Jane managed to wiggle his way out of any serious consequences. Life continued.

Cho had watched them silently and without any indication of how he really felt about the two of them. He certainly did nothing to sabotage them, but at the same time didn't say anything positive either. Jane was sure he'd come around, Lisbon was less sure, which bothered her. Cho was a good friend and a man whose judgment she trusted. As long as he had doubts she knew her own would continue. While she was happy, there was a part of her that wondered if it was all a bubble that would some day burst.

They'd been together just over two months before she had a chance to spend some time with Cho. They'd worked together, and even all gone out for beer, but she hadn't had the chance to speak with him one-on-one. Today, however, Jane had been asked to accompany Abbott on a visit to a high-profile suspect, which left her on her own.

"Hey Cho – wanna grab lunch?" she decided to take the bull by the horns.

He'd looked up, no expression on his face – as usual – and nodded. "Sure. I just have to finish this and then I can go."

They'd chosen to go to a local Mexican place that wasn't fancy, but had some of the best food around. Since it was a little late for the lunch crowd they found a quiet table in the corner without much trouble.

"So, you seem happy", Cho said immediately after the waitress had taken their order. "Are you?"

"Very happy", she smiled. "It's been good –_is_ good."

"I'm glad. I would have hated to kill Jane, not after all we've been through. And Abbott wouldn't like it."

She laughed. "And I'd miss him."

"So would I", Cho told her, catching her by surprise

"Really?"

"What, you think I don't like him? He's my friend – as irritating as he is – and I'd be sorry to see him go for any reason."

"Well, technically he can't", she reminded him of the FBI's hold over Jane.

"If Jane wanted to disappear, he could", he told her absolutely. "The only thing that kept him here from the beginning was you."

"Me?"

"Of course. It's also what brought him back to the US even though he knew the FBI weren't going to honor their contract with him."

"I – I think he came back because he missed life here, not because of me."

"Fine, tell yourself that if you want to but it's not true. He's here because of you."

"Nothing like a little pressure, is there?" she rubbed tired hands through her hair.

"It would only be pressure if you didn't want him."

"I know", she smiled softly, "And I do. I _am_ happy Cho – ridiculously happy."

"Then I'm happy for you. He's a good man – a crazy one – but a good one. Just don't let him con you into any new craziness."

She sighed. "As much as he still does his thing when we're solving a crime, I don't think he's looking for craziness. He wants – peace and contentment."

Cho nodded. "And you're helping him get it."

"I hope so. It's what I want to."

"With a little bit of craziness thrown in."

Teresa laughed. "Well, it wouldn't be Jane if he didn't bring some of that to my life. It makes things interesting."

"I'm glad for you Lisbon", Cho told her. He contemplated her seriously for a moment. "Any chance of little Janes?" he asked, somehow finding the one thing keeping her life from being totally content.

It was a question that she would only have accepted from two or three people – namely her team members. So, instead of telling her friend to mind his own business, she sighed. "Probably not. I mean, I'm almost too old at this point."

"Lot's of women are having kids at your age."

"I know but – I don't know about Jane."

Cho frowned. "What do you mean? He loves kids."

"I know but – he's never said anything and I don't know how he'd feel about it after losing his daughter. He was afraid to even start a relationship. I think fatherhood might terrify him."

"You need to talk to him about it", Kimball told her. "Don't make assumptions, especially where Jane is concerned."

She thought about his words all the way back to the office. It was true, one could never quite tell how Patrick would react to any given situation. He'd managed to surprise her many, many times over the years. She sighed, still not quite sure if it was something she should try and forget or whether she should say something.

Over the next couple of weeks they were immersed in a difficult case and she had little or no time to do much besides eat, sleep and work. Certainly the question of whether or not to broach the subject of children with Jane was put well on the back burner.

At least it was until she was forced to confront the issue head on.

"Uh Jane", she said that night as she watched him flip through a series of TV channels. He admitted that he hadn't watched TV for years – in fact had never watched much – and he didn't really like much of it. But, like her he was exhausted after the case and admitted he didn't even feel up to reading.

"Yeah", he answered distractedly. "How come there are so many channels and nothing to watch? There aren't even any good nature shows on."

"I don't know. Uh Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah", he nodded switching channels again. "What is it?"

"Well – could you turn that off?" she said, sounding irritated.

He looked at her in surprise and then nodded. He flicked off the TV and sat back. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yes, yes I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He moved over until he was right beside her and took her hands. "What's wrong love?"

She closed her eyes briefly, still thrown at times by how easily he now was able to show his affection.

"Teresa?" he squeezed her hands. "What is it? You're scaring me here."

"No – no, there's nothing to be scared about. I just wanted to ask you and I'm not quite sure -"

"You know you can ask me anything. Come on, what is it."

She inhaled deeply and then let the air out in a rush. "Do you want children?"

He blinked a couple of times, not showing any expression. "What?"

"Do you want children? I mean – I was wondering because I'm not getting any younger, and I saw you with Maddy and I thought it would be so wonderful to see you with -"

At that moment he dropped her hands and stood up, so quickly she wasn't quite sure what had happened. "Patrick?"

"No", he said softly. "No."

"No – you don't want kids?"

He turned on her at that, his face a study in anguish and fear and anger. "No, I don't want kids. How could you possibly think – even _ask _me that?" he said, his chest almost heaving with his breaths.

"You said I could ask you anything", she pointed out, although inside she was frightened.

"I know – and I'm sorry but – it's not something I could ever consider. If you – if it was something you wanted then – then I'm sorry and we'll have to consider what that means for us. It's just – no Teresa. Never."

She sat there feeling sick, unsure of what to say. If he'd said this to her at the beginning, hell, even a month ago, she would have been disappointed but she would have coped. She would have accepted that she would not have children and instead would be the best aunt she could be.

Now it was too late. She closed her eyes, afraid that she was about to destroy the best thing that had ever happened to her. She knew he would never forgive her and she wouldn't blame him.

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Patrick was still standing, looking out the window, pale and drawn.

"Patrick."

"What?" he asked softly, not turning to look at her.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"What?"

"First, I want you to know that I didn't do this on purpose. It was an accident, pure and simple. You have to believe me because I'd _never_ betray your trust."

"What is it?" he asked, his voice quivering with the fear and the knowledge of what was to come.

"I'm pregnant."


	10. Of Fear and Flight

**_A quick note: I worked for many years as a grief counselor, working with parents who had lost a child or children. Some of this may appear 'over the top' but I assure you that people really do panic at the thought of having a child after a loss._**

**_Thank you, as always, for my faithful reviewers and all those who are reading this story._**

Whatever was left of the color in Jane's face drained at Teresa's words. He stood there frozen, his face a mask showing nothing.

That changed an instant later when the blank stare changed to one of utter panic. A moment later he began to breathe loudly, in short, quick gasps. "No", he uttered in a strangled voice. "No – you can't – I can't." His eyes closed and opened again rapidly. He looked around the room almost as if expecting something or someone to be there.

"Patrick?" she walked towards him, worried at his reaction. As soon as she began to move he stepped back, his arms held out as if to ward off a threat.

"No", he said again, his breathing growing faster. He was on the verge of a full-scale panic attack and Lisbon didn't know what to do.

"I have – to" he bent over, his hands braced on his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I have to – I'm sorry." He straightened and pushed himself towards the door. A moment later he was gone.

She didn't know what to do. She was terrified he'd hurt himself and wanted to run after him. At the same time, she knew she was the last person he needed right now. She walked quickly to the door and opened it, just in time to see him screech away in his car. He was in no shape to drive and she had to do something.

Running to grab her phone she quickly dialed Cho. Jane needed help, he needed someone, just not her.

"Cho, it's Teresa. Look, I'm sorry but I need you to do something for me. Patrick just left and he's really upset. I'm worried about him. Could you go to his place and make sure he makes it home okay?"

"What's wrong?" Cho asked sounding worried, for once allowing his feelings to carry in his voice. "What happened?"

"He – he's panicking. I told him – oh God – I told him I'm pregnant and he freaked out. Please Cho, I'm really worried."

There was a pause so brief Teresa wasn't even sure it was there. Then Cho – steady reliable Cho – spoke.

"I'll go, don't worry. I'll make sure he's okay."

After she'd hung up she sat down, her muscles losing all strength. She stayed that way for what seemed like a long time, stunned by what had just happened. Soon, however, the numbness wore off and the next moment she was crying as if her heart would break.

Jane drove blindly, not aware of where he was or even what was happening. All he knew was he had to get away. The panic and fear were building and he felt like he was going to explode.

His eyes began to play tricks and he almost hit another car, swerving out of the way at the last minute. Even so he kept going, driven by a need to get away, to hide, to protect himself.

As caught up as he was in the terror that consumed him, a small part of his brain recognized this feeling. He also remembered that the last time he'd felt like this, he'd woken up in a padded and locked room. He'd spent the next six months of his life there.

Finally, unable to think, almost unable to breathe, he jerked the steering wheel to the side and stopped his car. Leaning his head forward he sat, pale, shaking and unaware of the world around him.

Cho drove immediately to Jane's trailer and waited, his worry showing by the uncharacteristic tapping of his fingers on the seat beside him.

He should have known that his friend wouldn't handle news like a pregnancy well, although he didn't expect quite such an extreme reaction. It was logical, really. He knew the other man still carried a tremendous load of guilt over the death of his little girl, and probably always would. The idea of being responsible for another child must be terrifying.

He checked the time and frowned. There's no way Jane wouldn't be here by now if he'd come directly from Lisbon's. He started his SUV and reversed out of the parking lot. He'd come back, but for now he needed to check to make sure the man hadn't killed himself.

He drove the streets between Jane's place and Lisbon's, hoping Jane had simply stopped somewhere on the way back. When he found nothing he expanded his search. He was just about to give up and call Teresa, when he spied Jane's car on the shoulder of a residential street. He'd almost missed it as it sat in the shadows under a tree. The car had jumped the curb and was sitting half on the sidewalk and half on the road. He could see Jane inside, but he wasn't moving. Cho prayed he hadn't hurt himself, although the accident looked to be minor.

"Jane", he tapped gently on the glass. Jane was hunched over the steering wheel, and Cho couldn't tell if he was wounded or not. "Jane", he tapped again. This time a bleary face turned towards him, although there was still no verbal response.

"Holy crap", he exclaimed when he saw the dazed look on the other man's face. Jane was obviously completely out of it. It was a miracle he hadn't killed himself or someone else. "I'm going to open the door Jane", he said calmly. When there was no response he careful pulled the handle and opened it. Jane still sat, his face turned towards Cho but with no expression.

"Let's get you out of here, okay?"

"Hmm?" Jane responded slightly. "Cho?"

"Yes, it's me. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

A slight frown appeared on the consultant's face. "But – I have my car."

"I know, but you're in no shape to drive. Come on."

After a second Jane gave a single nod. He then tried to get out of the car but could barely move. Cho finally had to reach in and practically pull his friend out.

Once Jane was standing he guided him to his own car, got him seated and strapped in and then headed out. He kept glancing at his passenger, but Jane simply stared ahead, his face looking like marble in the glare of the street lamps.

Making a quick decision Cho turned towards his own apartment. Jane shouldn't be on his own tonight but he knew the man wasn't up to seeing Lisbon. And Cho didn't want her to see Jane. She was freaked out enough as it was.

"Here we are", he said as he pulled into his parking spot. "Come on, let's get out."

Jane fumbled for the handle but had trouble getting it to open. When Cho finally came around and did it for him Patrick looked somewhat surprised, although he was still so out of it not much registered. In fact, he was halfway up the walkway when he stopped.

"This isn't my place", Jane muttered.

"No, it's mine. Come on."

"But, why am I here?"

"Because I'm going to fix you a cup of tea. Now let's get inside."

"Tea? Okay, tea sounds good."

Cho got him situated on his sofa. "I'm gonna go make tea. Just stay here."

"Okay."

The minute he got into the kitchen the FBI agent pulled out his cell and quickly dialed. "Teresa? Sorry that took so long. I found him parked on a side street. He's okay."

"_Has he said anything?"_

"No, nothing really. Look, I've got him at my place and I'll have him sleep here tonight. I think he needs some tea and rest and then I'm sure he'll be okay. This was just a shock and I expect it brought up some tough memories."

"_God, I know. I didn't mean to do this to him – it was an accident. Please, take care of him and call me if –if you need anything. And please, tell him I love him."_

"Okay. You take it easy. Everything will be fine."

When Cho hung up he stood looking at his phone for a few seconds. With a shake of his head he pulled himself out of his thoughts and began to look for tea. He really wondered if his words to Teresa were true. He didn't know if Jane was going to be okay or not.

"Here you go", he set the teacup on the coffee table. "The way you like it."

"Thanks." Jane sat staring at the teacup, not moving. "I can't do this", he muttered softly.

"What? Drink the tea? It's okay, I promise."

Jane ignored him and continued to stare at his cup. "I can't be a father. I killed her." His face crumpled and he seemed almost to collapse in on himself. "I told her I'd always protect her. She used to – to be afraid. She told me there was a bad man in her room and she was scared. I told her – I _promised_ her that I'd look after her, that I wouldn't let the bad man get her." He looked up at that, right at Cho. "I lied. I didn't protect her and the bad man got her."

"It wasn't your fault Jane, you know that. She was talking about an imaginary man – all kids are like that. It had nothing to do with what happened."

"I lied to her – my little girl." He swallowed and the tears were now trailing down his cheeks. "She was so beautiful, so innocent and I killed her. Can you imagine how she felt and I wasn't there to save her, like I promised. I can't - I can't do that to another child. I can't."

"You won't." Cho didn't know what to say or do. He wondered briefly if he should call Lisbon and have her come over. "It was a terrible tragedy Jane, but not your fault. It's not going to happen again."

"You can't _know_ that! How can you say that? People I love get hurt and they get killed and I can't do that to another child. I won't." He broke down completely then, leaning forward wracked by heaving sobs.

Cho glanced around, wishing that Lisbon or Grace or someone who knew how to deal with this kind of this was here. After listening to Jane for a few seconds he took a deep breath and moved forward. Sitting down on the sofa he reached over and put his arm around Jane's shoulder.

"It's okay Jane. Your daughter loved you and you were a good father – you _know_ that. Don't let your fears destroy what you have."

Jane froze for a second, and then collapsed into the other man. He grabbed Cho's shirt and put his head on his shoulder and cried.

Cho had no idea how long they sat there, but he held onto his friend and offered what comfort he could. He was pretty sure he was the wrong person to be doing this, but right now Jane needed someone and he was the only person available.

It was only as Jane grew quiet and his body heavy that Cho realized the other man had fallen asleep. The terror, the guilt, the panic had all exhausted him.

Pulling back carefully Kimball gently moved Jane until he was lying back on the sofa. He lifted his legs and pondered the other man who looked terrible, his face white and streaked with tears. With a shake of his head and a deep sigh the FBI agent, and at this moment caregiver, headed to the hall to retrieve a blanket. He covered his friend carefully and turned the lights down low. With another sigh he headed to his room, wishing there was more he could have done.

He was woken up by a strange noise and it took a few moments, and a repeat of the sound, to realize what it was. Leaping out of bed Cho ran towards the living room, to find Jane on the floor panting in terror.

"No – no, he's dead. Red John is dead. Please don't hurt her – please. Not my baby – please – don't."

"Damn it!" Cho moved quickly and knelt down by Jane, who was clearly in the middle of a nightmare. "Jane, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Jane turned terrified eyes onto him. "No, you don't understand. It's Red John. He's going to kill them. Please, stop him. Please, please – stop him!"

"Red John is dead", Cho repeated firmly. "It's just a nightmare. Come on Jane – wake up."

It took a few more minutes but eventually Jane calmed down and then slowly woke up. He turned bleary eyes onto the man squatted down beside him. "Cho?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Where am I?" Jane looked around, blinking curiously. "I'm at your apartment. Why? And why am I on the floor?"

"You were sleeping on the couch and you had a nightmare. Why don't you get up? I'll fix you a tea." Cho shook his head. He was pretty sure by the time this was done he'd have made more cups of tea than in his entire life.

Still looking confused, Patrick pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the sofa. He felt weak and disoriented and couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was at Cho's.

A few minutes later the calm and usually unflappable Cho had returned. "Here, drink this."

"Thank you." He took a sip, turning up his nose slightly. Still it was better than no tea at all. After a few sips he began to feel a bit better. "So – uh – why am I here?"

"You freaked out. Don't you remember?"

He tried to make his mind remember what had happened, but stopped. With a swallow he put his tea down. "No – no I don't remember." He knew there was something, something just out of his reach. All he had to do was to relax and the memory would return, but something was telling him not to – that he was better off not knowing.

Unless it was – "Oh God – did something happen to Lisbon?" He sat up, feeling a sense of panic return.

"No, she's fine", Cho reassured him. "At least she hasn't been hurt. She is worried about you though."

"Me? Why is she worried?"

"I told you – you freaked out."

"Oh." Did he want to ask what about? No, he didn't think he did. It was in the same realm as remembering, something he was avoiding right now.

"You're sure you don't remember?" Kimball asked, looking concerned.

"Uh – no – I don't think -" he groaned softly. As much as he wanted to bury his head in the sand right now, something told him he might as well get this over with. "What happened?" he finally asked.

"Do you want me to tell you?"

"Yes – I mean, you're sure Teresa is okay?"

"She's fine."

"Then go ahead – tell me."

Kimball pursed his lips, thinking how to approach this carefully. In the end he decided the best thing was to just be honest. "Teresa told you she was pregnant and you flipped out. I brought you here and then you had a nightmare about Red John."

Patrick didn't know how to react. Thankfully he didn't seem like he was going to flip out this time, but he couldn't really process anything. Teresa _pregnant_? No, there had to be a mistake. Maybe this whole thing was one of his dreams.

"I – you're sure?" he asked.

"That she's pregnant? That's what she told me."

He didn't want to go there, not at all. Ignoring that he spoke. "No, I mean did I really freak out?"

"Oh yeah. You crashed your car – not badly – and I picked you up. When we got home you got pretty emotional. You woke me up screaming. I think you were dreaming Red John was still alive and was after your family again."

"Because Teresa is pregnant", he whispered to himself. God damn it! How could this have happened? How could she have _let_ it happen? Once more he began to feel panic and guilt accompanied by a streak of intense anger at Lisbon. His breathing began to speed up.

"Jane – stop that!"

"What?" he breathed, sounding as if was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Stop what you're doing and calm down. It's not helping anything.

Shocked by Cho's words he glared at his friend but finally nodded, realizing what the other man said was true. Closing his eyes, he practiced a biofeedback technique that helped and made him feel calmer.

He opened his eyes and looked towards Cho. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not. Do you want me to call Lisbon?"

"NO! No", he repeated, more softly the second time.

"You can't avoid this Jane."

He looked up at the agent. "Since when have I ever avoided things?"

"Well, emotional things, all the time. You need help."

Jane snorted. "Right. I suppose you want me to go see a doctor or something. I can assure you, that won't happen."

"No, I don't suppose it will. What about going to talk to someone who's been through what you're experiencing."

"What? You think they have support groups for parents who've had their family killed by a serial killer?"

"I don't know. Probably. But that's not what I meant. There are lots of parents who have lost children in tragic ways, not just by serial killers, and they've gone on to have other kids. You could talk to them. Look, it's your business, yours and Teresa's. I just don't want to see either of you hurt. You've got to figure this out because if she is pregnant there's going to be a child that will be the one to suffer if you _don't_. Do you want that for your kid?"

"Better than having me kill it."

Kimball let out a deep breath and shook his head. "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, although from where I stand you're being an idiot. Sure it's tough, but so what, that's life. Teresa needs you right now and that baby will need you once it's born. If you don't see that and don't deal with it – well then, Red John will have the ultimate victory. Not only will he have killed your family, he'll have destroyed any future family and any chance you have of happiness." With that he turned and headed towards his bedroom.

"I'm here for you if you need me, but I think this is something you're going to have to figure out on your own."

Jane sat on the sofa, not moving, for a long time. Thoughts and feelings were pressing in on him so much that he didn't know what to do. Finally, just as the sun began to peek over the horizon he stood. Grabbing a scrap of paper he wrote a note and quickly left. Once outside he took his cell phone and called for a cab.

When Cho woke up the next morning the first thing he did was go to the living room to check on Jane. All he found was a folded blanket and a note on the coffee table.

_Cho,_

_Thank you. Please tell Teresa I love her and I'm sorry._

_Jane_


	11. Of Doors and Walls

_**A special thank you to those of you who review anonymously. Thank you and your comments are hugely appreciated.**_

_**Reflections and meanderings and plenty of angst! Enjoy**_

"Where the hell is he?" Abbott stood behind his desk, leaning forward with his clenched hands on the desk.

"I don't know Sir", Lisbon answered starkly, her pale complexion and dark circles the only things showing her distress.

"You don't _know_. And why is that. Aren't you and Jane a couple still?"

Lisbon swallowed. "I don't know Sir", she repeated.

"You don't know where he is or whether you're together?"

"Either Sir."

Abbott took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. In a much gentler voice he spoke to his subordinate. "What's going on Agent Lisbon."

She licked her dry lips and took a breath. "Jane – I – we", she closed her eyes and took another breath. "He got very upset about something I told him – something that brought up past memories of his family. He – panicked and left."

"Left?"

"Yes Sir. He was staying at Kimball's apartment and left in the night. We don't know where he went."

Dennis could feel a headache coming on. He rubbed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak. It was only then that he noticed Lisbon's condition. "Are you alright?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

She shrugged. "I don't - ", she stopped. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing too well I guess. I'm worried."

"Do you think he's in danger?"

"In danger?" she frowned, looking confused.

"Is he in danger of – harming himself?"

"Oh. Oh no – I don't – I'm sure he wouldn't Sir." She hadn't thought of that but now wondered. No – no Jane wouldn't do that. He hadn't killed himself after what had happened to his wife and child so there's no way he would consider it now. But she wondered suddenly if it the hunt for Red John that had kept him going and stopped him from killing himself. Maybe now – "No, I'm sure he wouldn't", she repeated, as much to reassure herself as Abbott.

"I can have him arrested you know."

"I know but please Sir – don't. I think he just needs some time. This has been hard on him."

"Time. Well, I can give him a few days, but if he's not back by the weekend I'll have to issue a warrant."

"Thank you Sir. We'll find him before then, I'm sure."

"Agent Lisbon."

"Yes?"

"You look after yourself. I don't know what this is about, and I don't need to, but if it starts affecting your work I'll have to do something."

"Yes Sir."

Abbott shook his head. "And I'm worried about you Teresa. I don't want you to get hurt."

She attempted to smile, although it was difficult. "Thank you. I'll take care of myself, I promise." And that was a promise she was going to keep. She no longer had just herself to worry about.

* * *

"Everything okay?" Cho looked up as she made her way back to her desk.

"He wanted to know where Jane was. I told him I didn't know."

"You don't, do you?"

"No. Abbott's given him until the weekend to come back. Oh Kimball, what am I going to do?"

"You? You're going to try and relax and take it easy. I'm going to get some help and find Jane and kick his butt back here."

Teresa laughed, but at the same time rubbed her eyes, refusing to let any more tears fall. "What kind of help?"

"Who do we know who is really good at locating people?"

She looked puzzled for a moment, and then her face relaxed. "Not Wayne and Grace?"

"Of course. Who better. They're our friends – and Jane's too. I've already sent an email for them to contact me. It's still early in California but we should hear from them soon."

Part of Lisbon felt embarrassed that they'd have to engage their friends in the hunt for Jane, but part of her – a big part of her – felt relieved. Her old team, her _real_ team would soon be back together. Sadly, it would probably be for one of the biggest challenges they'd ever faced; finding Patrick Jane and getting him to come home.

Jane landed in Los Angeles, his mind and body running on autopilot. He'd taken a cab directly from Cho's to the airport and had hopped the first available plane. He hadn't even bothered to pack a case and had nothing with him other than his wallet.

"I probably stink", he muttered.

"Pardon me?" an older lady in front of him in the rental car line turned enquiringly. "I'm sorry, did you say something to me?"

"What? Oh, no, sorry."

"That's okay. And no, I don't think you do."

"Pardon?" he asked, his brow folded in enquiry. He was having trouble thinking straight, his mind wandering from one thing to another. It was unusual for him – a feeling he hated. It had been like this for months after Red John and it terrified that it had come back.

"You don't – smell", the older lady told him with a smile. "You were worried."

His brows lifted in surprise, and for the first time in hours he smiled, ever though it was small one. "That's good to know."

She smiled again and turned back around, watching for an available clerk. Jane stood quietly behind her, feeling as if his life had righted itself just a tiny bit. And all it took was a woman telling him he didn't smell. Life was strange.

He drove out of the rental lot and immediately headed towards the Pacific Coast highway and to Malibu.

He arrived almost an hour later and pulled up in front of his house. He'd been here not that long ago, to retrieve the box from the attic with some of his daughter's things. He had only stayed long enough to get it and leave. This time he knew he needed to stay for much longer.

He made his way up to the front door – a path taken so often in the past. For many years he'd made his way to the front door, looking forward to being greeted by the woman who was the love of his life and his tiny daughter – his little miracle. Then there were the years that followed – years wracked with anguish and terrible grief. He would force himself to come this way as a penance, as a way of scourging himself for what he had done.

It was for that reason that he had never removed that horrible, macabre drawing – written in the blood of those he loved. Every time he looked at it, every time he slept under it he was reminded of his guilt and of his quest for revenge.

That symbol – that shocking and disturbing symbol – was, ironically, the thing that had kept him going, had kept him alive. If it hadn't been for that he was sure – no, he _knew_ he would have killed himself.

But that face was a reminder, a reminder that he did not deserve death. He did not deserve a release from his pain or his guilt. He had caused the deaths of his family and was forever cursed to suffer for it – to live.

But then he had walked into that CBI building those many years ago and came into contact with the team –the team that became _his_ team. And slowly, over time, he had begun to come alive, to _heal_ surrounded by his team. He didn't know it at the time – and it wasn't a complete healing – but it _was_ happening. And then, as he began to truly live again his teammates became his _friends_. He cared about them and they cared about him – even if at times they wanted to shoot him. Suddenly there was something more than revenge and guilt – there was companionship, and laughter and trust and – friendship.

And then – and then there was Teresa Lisbon. She had become a friend – someone, often the only one, he could truly trust, who _knew_ him. She knew him more than any one else ever had – even Angela.

It was the first time he admitted it to himself and he felt a terrible ache in his chest to even think it. But Angela was the love of his young self – his arrogant, ambitious, egotistical self. Oh, he had had his good points and Angela saw those. That was the reason he loved her so much. But she hadn't really seen the bad, she hadn't seen the whole man.

Angela was a beautiful, loving soul who only saw the good in people. She was a dreamer and had wanted nothing so much as a home and family and a life with the man she loved. Even though she had grown up in the harsh reality of the carny life, she was an idealist.

Looking back Patrick wondered, for the first time, why her goodness hadn't inspired him to be a better man than he had been. Maybe it was because she didn't ask anything of him. She believed in him, loved him, practically _worshipped_ him – but she didn't push him, or hold him accountable or kick him in the ass when he needed it. She had loved him, but hadn't forced him to be better.

He couldn't help but think of her with love and with a sadness that he knew would always remain. If there was anyone who didn't deserve such a horrible death it was Angela. She had been a beautiful soul and her death was tragic.

But his life had gone on – for the first time he could think those words. He was still alive – and he had met a woman who was as different from Angela as could be. She was tougher, harder and had seen the worst life had to offer. But for some strange reason she _did_ make him the better man. She wouldn't let him get away with anything. She held a mirror to him and let him see the good as well as the bad. And she _loved_ him – not because she saw only the good in him, but because she saw _all_ of him; she saw him and she knew him and she _still _loved him.

He looked up the stairs at that door – the door that had permanently changed his life. The door that had destroyed what he had and who he was. For the first time he wondered if maybe it had changed him for the better.

But to think that was horrible. It meant that Angela and Charlotte had to die for him to change, to turn from his life swindling good people into something better, more meaningful.

He took a step up – towards that door. But did it mean that? Just because he was a better man, or at least he thought he was, does that really mean they had to die for this to happen?

He took another step. What would he have been like if they had lived? He would never know and it really didn't matter because that was a life that would never be lived. This reality, _his_ reality was all there was.

Another step – closer to the door. So what did it all mean? How could he reconcile where he was now with the deaths of the two he loved most in the world. How could sweet, innocent Charlotte have to give her life so her father could be a better man? That was vile. Something not even to be contemplated.

One more step. But what if he didn't think of it that way. What if it wasn't their _deaths_ that made him better, but their lives? He closed his eyes briefly. Why had he done what he had done? Why had he turned away from pretending to be psychic? Why had he stopped conning people – at least for profit? Why had he made it his life's work to stop evil and provide justice for good people? It wasn't because his wife and child died – it was because he had to show their lives meant something.

One more step forward. By no longer pretending to be something he was not he honored Angela's wishes to get out of the business. By being someone who believed in loyalty and compassion he would prove that he deserved to have a daughter as lovely and innocent as Charlotte. He would honor her short life by making sure that he could be proud of who he was, proud to be called her father.

It was not their deaths – but who they were that had made him a better man. Their loss almost destroyed him, but his friends – and especially his new and very different love – had brought him back to life, to the realization that it was by living fully that he could keep Angela and Charlotte alive, in his heart if no where else. And by letting go – if he could – of the anger and hate and guilt, he could remember them the way they should be remembered; with love and light and joy.

He stood now in front of the door. He knew what was on the other side – had seen it every night in his dreams since that fateful day. It lived with him always.

He realized suddenly and shockingly why he'd come. When he'd left Cho's he's been driven to come to his house, to this room. It was because that wall, that symbol is what had kept him alive all these years. And in his panic and fear he had needed to find something, anything to keep him going.

He still had moments, those moments when he would relive this walk up the stairs, when he wondered if he would be happier if he ended it. They were few and far between – less and less now – and never serious but at Teresa's words he'd felt that longing, that longing for darkness and peace. That had driven him to see that symbol – to find something to keep him alive.

He pushed open the door. There it was – that horrible, terrible, dreadful drawing. The face that had been his reality for too many years

Jane walked forward slowly, staring at the wall. When he reached the mattress he carefully lowered himself down, although he kept his eyes trained on the wall. "You're dead Red John", he murmured. "Dead and you can never hurt me or those I love ever again."

He lay in that room for hours, staring, watching, gazing at the faded red face. It was only as the outside light began to fade that Jane breathed. He pushed himself to his feet and turned towards the door. He gave one last look back and then walked down the stairs.

He returned a short while later, something in his hands. He walked up those stairs, this time knowing exactly why and what he had to do.

He entered the room, kicking the door back as hard as he could. He set down what he was holding and looked at that face, one last time.

"I won", he whispered. Then louder. "I won – and you will _not_ defeat me. I loved my wife and my daughter and I will remember them with joy. And I will live again – I will _love_ again and you will not stop me."

Taking off his jacket he tossed it in the corner. He then spent the next few moments getting everything ready. Finally he stepped up to the wall, paint roller in hand.

"There you go you bastard" he said as he began to cover the face. "You go to hell!"

It wasn't long before the face was no longer visible, but still Jane kept painting. He applied coat after coat of pain, burying the face that he refused to let defeat him. Yes, Red John – no, not Red John, a mystical killer, but Thomas McAllister, pervert, sadist and butcher was dead, dead by Jane's hand. He would never again haunt his nightmares.

He was finally finished when the paint ran out. He stood back and smiled. The wall was bare. It was a fresh canvass on which anything could be put.

And he no longer needed it to stay alive. Because life was not about guilt or vengeance but about love and faith and commitment. It was about accepting and being accepted, regardless of the faults you carried. It was about someone who _knew_ you and yet still loved you. It was about Teresa.

He swallowed. But was it about a child? He'd refused to think about that even once through the day. As soon as he imagined a child he could feel himself begin to panic. He still didn't think he could do it, didn't think he could be a father.

But he had no choice. It was already done and it was going to happen, with or without him a child would be born.

He leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. He couldn't do it – not now, but still, he had no choice. He swallowed and straightened himself. He was tired and couldn't think any more tonight. Looking around once more he turned and left the room. He walked unhurriedly down the stairs and, for the first time in years, began to walk through his house.

He found the tricycle that had sat for so many years and walked up to it. Kneeling down he remembered how excited Charlotte was when he bought it for her. He'd taken her outside and pushed her on the driveway, her smiles and laughter echoing in the warm afternoon air.

He could give it to his new son or daughter when the time was right. He gripped the handle tightly – could he do that? He didn't know. He stood up slowly and finished his tour of the house.

It was a beautiful house. He and Angela had loved it the first time they'd seen it. He hadn't wanted to think of selling it – there were too many memories – but he didn't know if he could ever live here again, also because of the memories.

He should sell it. He was sure there was someone out there that wouldn't care about its history. It was on a prime piece of real estate and was worth a fortune.

No, for now he couldn't do it. He'd keep it, but no longer as a shrine or as a place of penance, but as a place to remember wonderful times with his wife and daughter.

Tired now, he debated whether to stay or go and find a hotel. There was no food in the house and only the one mattress. In the end he decided to sleep elsewhere. He was emotionally exhausted and needed to get away for a while.

* * *

"He flew to LA first thing this morning", Grace told her that afternoon. "He also rented a car. We're still looking but so far he hasn't made any other charges on his credit card."

"He's probably gone to his house", Lisbon said quietly.

"Teresa, are you okay?" Grace sounded terribly worried, not liking how her friend was sounding. "What's going on?"

"I told you, Jane was upset and left. Abbott's breathing fire and I said I'd find him."

"But _why_ was he upset? About what? Come on, I'm your friend and both Wayne and I are here for you."

Teresa sighed into the phone. She still felt funny saying anything, even to her closest friends. It wasn't just that she wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret for now, it was that it felt like a betrayal of Jane to tell everyone how he'd panicked.

"I'm pregnant", she finally blurted, knowing that, in the end, she needed someone she cared about to know and to be there for her. Cho had been wonderful, but Grace was a woman and would understand all the emotions running through her.

"Oh Teresa", Grace murmured. "And that's what upset Jane?"

"Mmm hmm. He panicked Grace. It brought back all sorts of things and he said – he didn't want children. He was angry at me."

"Angry? Did you get pregnant on purpose?"

"_No_! Of course not. It was an accident I would never do that to him."

"Did you tell him that?"

"I tried, but I don't know if he even heard me. He ran out almost immediately."

"That idiot!" Grace muttered. "We'll still keep watch and if he used his card we'll find him. Uh is there anything else we can do?"

Lisbon paused briefly, deep in thought. "Do you think -" she stopped. "Never mind."

"No, there's no such thing as 'never mind'. What is it?"

"I just wondered if you could – would you mind -"

"Going and seeing him?"

"Yes", Lisbon answered in a rush. "Please? I don't think he should be alone."

"Okay. Look, we'll wait to see if he used his card, then we'll know where he is. At that point we can fly down to LA and go see him."

"Oh God Grace – I hate to ask this of you."

"Pshst",Grace made a rude noise on the other end of the phone. "What are friends for? And it's not like it's a long way away. We can be there in a little over an hour by plane."

"I'll pay for your tickets", Lisbon told her, refusing to argue about it. "Just – let me know when you find him."

"I will, of course. Now don't worry. We'll get this all sorted out and everything will be fine."

Lisbon hung up the phone, for the first time that day feeling a bit hopeful. If there was anyone who could appeal to Jane's better nature it was Grace.

* * *

He was dozing off, exhausted from everything that had happened the last two days. He had managed to grab a bite to eat in a Denny's across the street from the motel – a horrible meal but filling and had tried watching a bit of TV to get his mind off things. Now he was ready for a good long sleep. He just prayed he wouldn't be visited by nightmares in the night.

The pounding on the door woke him instantly. He was so disoriented that he couldn't figure out what was happening or who it could be . "Just a minute" he muttered, making his way to the door. "Hold your horses!"

Unfortunately there was no peephole so instead he had to open the door, the inside chain still on.

"Rigsby! Van Pelt! What are you guys doing here?"

"Let us in and we'll tell you"

Jane released the chain and invited his friends into his room. "Okay you're in, what's up?"

"_What's up is this!" _Wayne said ferociously, and he hit Jane in the face.


	12. Of Safety and Refuge

_**Warning: there will be a bit at the end that deals with the death of a child and some may find it disturbing. **_

"Wayne! What did you do?" Grace rushed over to Jane, who was rolling on the floor, his hand covering his nose and mouth. "Are you okay? Jane, did he hurt you?"

"He punched be in da face! Of _course_ he hurt be!"

"I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you up." She put her arm around him and helped him sit up. Come on, onto the bed."

With a groan Jane managed to stand and stumbled over to the bed, collapsing on top of it, his hand still over his face.

"Well don't just stand there Wayne, go get him some ice. I can't believe you _did_ that."

"I'm – I'm sorry. I just – I was thinking about Lisbon and I -"

"Ice!"

"Okay – right away." Wayne started out the door and then stopped. Turning around he checked out the room until he found the ice bucket, grabbed it and made a quick getaway.

"I'm so sorry Jane. I don't know what got into him. We didn't come here for this. We were worried about you."

Patrick lifted his head and peered at Grace from watery eyes. "Yes, I cad tell", he answered, sounding as if he had a cold.

Grace grimaced. "Wayne was worried about you too – really. I think – he just – got all 'big-brother' protective of Teresa. He didn't mean it."

Patrick shook his head, regretting it almost instantly. He finally put his hand down, which caused Grace to wince. His nose was red and it looked like he was already starting to bruise. He was definitely going to have at least one black eye.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

He laughed softly. "Oh yeah – just fine."

Grace sighed. "No you're not", she answered gently, sitting beside him. She put her arm around him and pulled him close. This had never been their relationship, but she'd always had a soft spot for him. And right now she was positive he was in need of some TLC. "I know it's hard for you right now, but we're here for you", she told him quietly.

It took a few seconds for Jane to be able to respond. His emotions had been running close to the surface since – God, when was it? Since Teresa had told him about the pregnancy. He was also exhausted from all the things he'd faced today. Grace's warm compassion almost caused him to break, but he stopped himself. There was no way he was going to cry all over her.

He had a suspicion that he'd already done that with Cho. He couldn't remember too much, and he prayed it was nothing more than a dream. Whether dream or memory, however, all he knew was that he felt embarrassed and he wasn't about to let it happen again. He cleared his throat and sat up, trying to once more show he was in control. "How did you find me?"

"We figured you were in California since Lisbon thought you'd go to your house in Malibu. That and we checked on your credit card usage."

Jane nodded. "She's right, I went to my house but there's no furniture so I came here to sleep."

Just then Wayne stuck his head through the door, a sheepish look on his face. "Uh, I have some ice. I got the front desk to give me some zip lock bags and I put it in one."

Patrick held out his hand, so that Wayne was forced to come in. After taking the bag of ice and placing it on his nose Jane had a sudden, sharp memory of his first day at the CBI. So many years had passed since then and he was still making people mad enough to hit him.

"I'm really sorry man", Wayne said, standing in front of him, looking like a tall – a very tall - naughty little boy. "I don't know what got into me. I didn't plan on doing that."

"Ts'okay", Jane answered, not looking at the younger man. "I deserved it."

Wayne smiled and squatted down until he could look Jane in the face. "No – no you didn't. It's not that I don't think you were an idiot to run off, but I know you didn't do it to hurt Teresa."

"No – I never wanted to do that", Patrick answered softly. With a sigh he dropped his hand and the ice. "But I did."

Wayne winced as he too saw the damage. "Should we take you to the hospital?"

"No! No, I'm fine, just a bit sore."

The three of them sat silently, no one quite sure what to say or do next. It was Jane who finally broke the silence.

"Is she okay?"

"Who, Teresa?" Grace asked. "Well, she's mostly worried about you."

Jane closed his eyes. He hadn't wanted that, but it wasn't a surprise. Of _course _she'd worry about him. It was practically her life because since she'd met him he had continuously done things to _make_ her worry. She really would be better off – "Ow!" He opened his eyes and looked at Grace, who had just slugged him in the arm. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry", she answered, not looking in the slightest repentant. "But you were sitting there thinking that Teresa would be better off without you and that's crap. She's better – you're both better – when you're together."

"What, you're a mind reader now?" he asked softly, although he admitted her words had warmed him.

"I've learned from the best", she smiled at him. "And I'm right, but now's not the time to talk about it. It's late and you need to rest. Tomorrow we're taking you home with us and we'll figure all this out."

"Taking me home? Like a lost puppy?"

"No, like a friend."

"If we leave you here, are you going to disappear?" Wayne asked suddenly.

Patrick took a deep breath in, so tired he could barely think. And right now he didn't _want_ to think. He didn't want to figure out what to do or how to feel. He looked at Grace, with her arm around him and Wayne, kneeling in front of him. They were regarding him with concern and compassion – not as a terrible person, a damaged person, but as a friend.

And right now he needed his friends. He needed to lean on someone, to let someone take care of him. He could put on his mask, the one he'd worn for so many years, and let them thing he was fine or he could – for once – let someone know that he was in trouble and needed help.

"No", he said softly, the decision made. He looked Wayne directly in the eye. "I won't disappear. If you're sure – I'd like to go back with you."

Wayne nodded and smiled. "Okay then, Grace and I are going to get a room and try to get a few hours sleep. In the morning we'll come by and collect you. Do you want to call Teresa and let her know what you're doing, or shall we?"

"I –" he didn't know if he could. He knew he needed to talk to her, but didn't know if he would be able to, not now.

"We'll call her now and let her know you're safe. I'll tell her you'll call tomorrow, is that okay?" Grace asked.

"Yes", he nodded. Then he allowed his present mask to slip a bit. His lips trembled slightly. "Tell her I love her."

"I will", she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "And you know she loves you, right?" Without waiting for his answer she stood and helped Wayne to his feet. "Now I'm ready for bed. Go to sleep Jane. Everything will look much better in the morning."

He nodded. "Just promise me you won't hit me again, okay? I really don't think I can take it."

They both laughed but agreed. "Go to sleep."

He pushed himself back on the bed, too tired to even stand up. Within moments he was out. His friends were here and he could trust them to deal with everything, at least for now.

"Teresa?"

"_Grace! What is it? Did you find him?"_

"Yes we did. He's at a motel in Santa Monica and he's okay."

_"You're sure? He talked to you? What did he say?"_

"Not much. He was exhausted – it's late here and we woke him up. Look, we didn't really talk, although he was concerned about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. Teresa, I invited him to come and stay with us for a while. I hope you're okay with that. I think he needs some time to deal with everything."

_"Did he agree to go?"_

"Yes he did. In fact he seemed to be relieved at the idea – and he promised Wayne he wouldn't run away."

_"Good. Thank you Grace – I think it's a great idea". _She was silent for a few seconds._ I'm going to miss him."_

"Of course you will" Grace agreed. "And he's already missing you. Oh, by the way, I'm supposed to tell you he'll call tomorrow – I don't think he was up to it tonight. He also told me to tell you he loves you."

Teresa let out relieved breath and the tears again began to fall. She was still frightened and upset, but there was hope. "_Thank you Grace",_ she said again. _"Please let me know how he's doing."_

Jane woke up the next morning, still tired and feeling a bit stiff. He also had a headache and wished he had some painkillers. He glanced at his watch, surprised that it was already 9:30. He blinked a few times and finally pushed himself up. He wasn't sure what time Wayne and Grace would be by but figured he should at least shower.

He glanced down at himself and winced. He didn't have any clothes with him and had ended up sleeping in his pants and shirt – which were now horribly wrinkled. He should have taken them off but he'd been so tired he had fallen asleep without even thinking about it. He was going to look like a homeless man dressed like this. He smiled when he remembered Teresa telling him to clean up the first time he'd met her. Yes, she was definitely good for him.

He stripped his clothes and headed into the shower, grateful for the hot, steamy water, which washed away the grime of the past couple of days. He just wished it could wash away the panic.

He'd purchased a disposable razor and a travel size shave cream so after his shower he headed to the sink to get rid of the two-day growth of beard. One look in the mirror had him doing a double take.

"Damn! I look like a raccoon." He winced as he saw the two black bruises that travelled across the bridge of his nose and circled under both eyes. His finger traced the bruises and he shook his head. He really did deserve them.

He figured the Rigsby's were probably sleeping in as they'd arrived so late. That left him time to make a phone call. He picked up his cell, knowing he had to do this, but dreading it terribly. He loved Teresa and desperately wanted things to work out, but he was still terrified, and if he was truthful, still angry with her. It may not have been reasonable or fair, but that didn't seem to matter. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut by someone he should have been able to trust.

With a small groan he hit speed dial, hoping he'd get her voice mail.

"_Jane?"_

"Hi Teresa."

"_How are you?"_

At least she didn't sound angry, he thought. No, just terrified and worried and feeling like she'd been betrayed. He hated himself at this moment.

"I'm fine. The Rigsby's found me last night. Thank you."

"_What?"_

"Thank you. I know you were the one that got them to come. I – appreciate it."

"_I'm glad. I was worried you'd be mad at me or them."_

"No – it's good to have them here. Uh Teresa – they've asked me to go and stay with them for awhile."

"_Grace mentioned that last night. Are you going to go?"_

"I – uh – I think so. Are you okay with that?"

She laughed softly, although her voice cracked. "_Of course. I think it's a great idea – although I'll miss you."_

He swallowed at the sudden soreness in his throat. He had to cough to cover up the fact that he was unable to speak. After a second he cleared his throat. "I'll miss you too. Teresa – I'm sorry, so sorry about all this. I'm trying – I want – but I don't know if I can – I'm just really sorry."

"_So am I Patrick. I didn't mean for this to happen – you have to believe me. I would never do this to you on purpose."_

He huffed softly. "I know." And the truth was, he _did_ know, but that still didn't seem to stop the anger. "Look, I have to meet the Rigsby's but I wanted to let you know what was happening. I'll be in touch when I get to San Francisco. And Teresa – take care of yourself." He wasn't able to speak – and barely even think – about the baby, but that didn't mean he didn't care.

"_I will Patrick. I'm here for you whenever you feel ready and don't ever forget how much I love you."_

"I love you too. Goodbye Teresa."

He clicked off his phone and sat on the side of the bed, simply staring at it. It was only the knock on the door that startled him out of his daze. Wayne and Grace must be here to take him home.

* * *

"It's good to be home", Grace sighed. It had only been 24 hours, but she had missed the kids. They should be just be up from their naps at this hour and she couldn't wait to see them. She was grateful that their nanny had been able to come over at the last minute and stay the night.

"Thanks Trudy", she said to the older woman who looked after her children.

"No problem at all Grace. The kids were great. Maddy is still asleep and Ben is in his room playing with his cars."

"Mama Grace", Ben ran quickly down the stairs, having heard his parents' voices. "You're back!"

"I am", she swung her stepson around in a circle. "Were you a good boy for Miss Trudy?"

"I was. Maddie cried for you last night but Miss Trudy told us a really good story and she stopped crying. Mommy, did you bring Uncle Patrick with you", he asked, sounding excited.

"She did" Jane answered with a smile. He stepped forward out of the shadow he'd been standing in. "Hello young Mr. Rigsby. How are you today?"

Patrick barely had time to blink before he was being dragged off to Ben's room to see his new truck.

"Don't wear him out Ben", his mother called out to him. "Uncle Patrick is tired."

"Kay", her son called over his shoulder, in reality paying no attention.

"It's okay Grace", Jane smiled down at her from halfway up the stairs. "I have a burning desire to see the new truck."

Over the next few days Patrick forced himself to not think about Teresa or about fatherhood. Instead he spent time puttering around the Rigsby's home mostly playing with the kids or, when they were napping or busy, reading or watching TV.

He knew it was a time out of reality and one that wouldn't last but for now he needed it. He needed to not have to deal with anything heavier than skinned knees and sibling rivalry.

It was ironic that he'd found a way to forget about Lisbon's pregnancy by spending time with two children. But the fact was, he'd always loved kids and what made it bearable was that these weren't his. He could play with them, tease them, make them laugh but bear absolutely no responsibility for their well-being. Wayne and Grace and Trudy had that well under control.

"Tatty!" He felt something pull on his leg and looked down, grinning at the little girl who was pulling herself up using his pant leg as a handle. He reached down and swung her up into his arms, causing her to giggle. "Tatty", she repeated, resting her nose against his.

"You realize that we're going to call you that from now on don't you?" Wayne said with a grin. Maddy was just learning to talk and had somehow turned 'Patrick' into 'Tatty'. Even Ben had started using it.

Jane rolled his eyes. "Not unless you want me to tell everyone about your secret fear."

"What?" Rigsby frowned. "What secret fear?"

"You know", Jane looked at him, his brows raised. "The one you haven't told anyone, even Grace. The one the kids in middle school taunted you about."

"Wait – how do you know about -". His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You don't know anything. You're just guessing."

Jane pursed his lips and gave a short nod. "Maybe – maybe not. Just try calling me 'Tatty' and you'll find out."

"Damn", Wayne muttered, heading out of the kitchen. "I want to know how you always _do_ that."

Patrick grinned and began to play trucks with Ben.

He'd been here almost a week and knew it was time he considered leaving. He'd tried to be an unobtrusive guest and felt that for the most part he had been. Still, Wayne and Grace didn't need someone like him moving in for any length of time.

"I think I'll be heading out tomorrow", he told them after dinner that evening. "It's time I headed back. I'm sure Abbott is about ready to send the sheriff after me."

"You don't have to leave Jane." Grace frowned at him worriedly. "And Abbott's given you a couple of weeks off. You should stay here longer."

"Thank you", he got up and went over to Grace. Kneeling down he reached forward and gave her a hug. "You don't know how much this has meant. But I have to go back sometime and it might as well be now."

"Are you ready?" she asked, still looking perturbed.

He sighed. "I don't know. I don't think I'll ever be ready."

"Jane" she reached and took his hands in hers. Wayne sat silently, just watching, knowing that his wife was much better able to deal with this. "Jane, I can't imagine how hard this must be for you – I don't presume to understand – but I do know that rather than being something terrible, it's actually something good. I know you're frightened, but this child is someone to love – and you're wonderful with children. Maddy and Ben adore you. You could have that with your own child."

He sat tight lipped, still kneeling in front of her. He didn't want to get angry or flippant with her – she had been too good for him but her words had cut deeply. Why did people think it would make everything better if he simply went out and replaced his family? He couldn't seem to make anyone understand that it didn't work that way.

But you found love again, in Teresa, the little voice in his head said insistently. You were willing to accept her into your life, why not a child?

Because Lisbon is strong and capable and doesn't need him to look after her. A child on the other hand, _would_ need him, would trust him and rely on him – and he'd fail that child, just like he had with his own. He could not _ever_ replace Charlotte and he would never put a child in danger by pretending he could protect it.

"Jane." Grace's voice interrupted his thoughts. He shook himself suddenly and took a deep breath, realizing he'd been caught up in his own thoughts.

"Sorry", he apologized. "Look, I know you mean well Grace, but it just doesn't work like that. I can't do this again."

"So you're just going to run off and leave Teresa to deal with it on her own. You're going to take the coward's way out and shrug your shoulders, saying you can't do it? Wow – I had a father who was a criminal and pretty much a bastard, but at least he had enough guts and maybe even enough love to stick around."

Jane could feel a cold wash of anger surge through him. He wanted to stand up and yell at Wayne for his words, but, for many years he'd cultivated the ability to control his emotions so instead he stayed where he was, not looking at the other man.

"Wayne, stop that. It's not helping."

"I don't care", her obstinate husband spoke. "He needs to hear the truth. This isn't about you Jane – not about your fears or your memories or your history. We all understand the horrible tragedy you went through, _and_ we understand how frightening this must be. But that doesn't excuse you from not dealing with it, for not _trying_. Go talk to someone, go get help. Talk to Teresa or a counselor or another parent who's lost a child – but start dealing with it."

Jane stood slowly at that, his breathing quick and shallow. He needed to leave – this had been a mistake. Suddenly his safe refuge was being torn away and he didn't know what to do. He turned and started towards the door. He'd get his few things – the things he'd purchased – together and go to a hotel. He had outstayed his welcome.

"Just think about one thing Jane", Wayne said gently as he headed out of the kitchen. "You're scared because you don't think you can protect a child – but who's going to protect him or her if you're not there? Do you honestly think that by running away you can prevent bad things from happening? Do you really believe you can forget your child? Ask yourself what scares you more – having a child – or losing another one by walking away from it?"

At that he ran out of the room and upstairs. Grabbing his belongings he threw them in the shopping bag they'd come in and quickly made his way to the front door. Grace was standing there, her face in tears. "Don't go Jane. Wayne shouldn't have said anything. Please, stay. He's sorry for upsetting you and I promise, he won't say anything more. Just stay."

He stopped and took a deep breath. He needed to leave – to get some space – but he didn't want to leave on bad terms with the people who had shown him such love and compassion. With a small, crooked smile he stepped forward and enveloped the younger woman in a hug. "It's okay" he told her. "I'm not mad at Wayne – well, only for punching me. But his words -" he shrugged. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

"Don't go", she murmured into his shoulder. "Please?"

"Thanks Grace – really – but I need to do this. Wayne was right – I need to deal with this and I can't do that here. Thank you – thank you so much for everything. You don't know how much this has meant."

"Maddie and Ben aren't going to be happy."

He chuckled. "Tell Ben that the next time I come I'll bring another new truck for him and give Maddie a kiss from her Uncle Tatty."

Grace laughed, although it still sounded suspiciously watery. "You'll look after yourself? You won't do anything stupid?"

"I've already done my share of 'stupid'", he informed her with a sad smile. "No, I promise. Don't worry, I'll look after myself. I just need a few days to think about things. Being here has been great. It gave me the chance to _not_ think for awhile, which I needed. But now I think I have to figure this out on my own."

"Okay", she hugged him again, "as long as you promise to take care of yourself. Teresa will _kill_ us if we let you go and you get hurt."

"I promise." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then opened the front door. At that moment Wayne walked out of the kitchen looking a combination of embarrassed and guilty and determined.

"Are you leaving?" he asked calmly.

"I am. But – thank you for what you said. I don't know if I agree, but I know you meant well", Patrick nodded at the other man. "I'll be in touch and don't worry Grace!" he told her sternly. With a final smile and wave he stepped out into the evening air.

"God, what are we going to tell Teresa?" Grace wanted to know.

"That he's taken a step in the right direction", Wayne answered, his eyes staring ahead at the door, even though Jane was gone. "I think – he may be looking for something to help him deal with this."

"You think so?" Grace asked hopefully.

"I do."

* * *

By the next day Jane was back in his trailer in Austin, surprised at how good it felt to be home. He didn't tell anyone, needing the space to think about things. He had another week of leave and until he had to go back to work he didn't want anyone distracting him.

He didn't sleep well that first night, and he knew the next few days were going to be stressful. But Wayne had been right, he needed help. And, as much as he hated having to ask, he knew that if he didn't want to lose Teresa, he had to do something.

* * *

"Come in", the man stood and walked over to him, his hand out. "I'm Carl, I'm glad you could join us."

"Patrick", he answered shortly, shaking Carl's hand. He then glanced around the small and cozy room and nodded hello to the others. There were eight – ten including Carl and him. There were three couples and two single (at least for the evening) women.

He went and sat in a single chair, as far away from anyone else that he could get and tried to calm himself down. The only thing that made this tollerable was that the others in the room looked to be in a similar state to his: frightened, embarrassed, uncomfortable and wondering what the hell they were doing here. He relaxed slightly. He wasn't odd man out.

"Welcome", Carl said once everyone was settled. The man sounded friendly and sincere and Jane could feel himself relax even more. There was no evidence of any guile. Carl seemed to be pretty much who he appeared to be.

"I'd like to welcome you all here tonight", he continued. "I know this is probably one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. I promise you that it will help. It's not going to take away your pain, or change what has happened, but it can make you feel not so alone – and like there's a reason to go on."

Jane kept his eyes focused on Carl, suddenly not wanting to even acknowledge that there were others in the room. He was on the verge of standing up and fleeing, but kept telling himself he'd give it one more minute. He tuned back in at that moment, to realize Carl was still speaking.

"The first couple of weeks are difficult", he was telling them. "This is the time each of us tells our story – and the room will feel heavy with everyone's pain. But I promise that things _will_ get better if you stick it out. All I ask is that you listen to one another with compassion and respect and understand that everything said in this room is to stay here. Do not repeat anything you here outside of this space."

Carl watched as everyone signaled in some way their agreement. Once that was done he continued. "I'll start with my story and then we can each take turns."

"My son was eight years old when a drunk driver plowed into him as he stood waiting for the school bus. He died the next day and I knew then that life as I'd known it had ended…."


	13. Of Stories and Sorrow

_**Warning: The following is short but very, very angsty. It deals, in a realistic way, with the death of young children (no details or gore). I worked for many years doing individual and group counselling of parents who lost a child or children and this is based on my real-life experience. It may be painful for some to read ... you have been warned.**_

He listened to the stories each of the parents told. He heard about Matthew, who died of cancer, his small life snuffed out by the unrelenting advance of a wicked disease. He heard about Jessica – tiny little Jessica – killed when a car plowed into the car her Grandma was driving. The Grandmother had been killed as well, adding to the tragedy.

Then there was Samuel, who had been born with a congenital heart defect. He died while waiting for a transplant that had never come. His parents spoke of his unending cheerfulness and hope. He'd wanted to be an astronomer, something that would never happen.

He had to swallow away the tears when one of the single moms spoke of her daughter Abby. They were best friends, her mother said. She used to love to brush and braid her daughter's hair. Abby had contracted meningitis from a kid at summer camp. The other kid had survived. Abby didn't.

Many times Jane wanted to stand up and flee the room. He had enough of his own pain to deal with, he didn't need that of others. The strange thing was, he'd come into contact with many parents over the years who had lost children through his work with the CBI. Some of his former clients, in the days when he was a psychic con-man had also come to him to try and speak with their dead children. But for some reason he'd been able to divorce himself from those stories. He'd been able to do the work and not allow himself to think or to empathize.

But now – now there was no work, there was nothing to keep his mind and his heart – although he didn't want to admit that – from hearing and feeling the pain of the others. It was too much. How could this possibly help him? How could this in any way make him believe that he could handle having another child? If anything it confirmed to him that life was too tenuous, too fragile, especially for the young and the vulnerable. He couldn't be responsible for another young life.

Carl had asked him twice if he wanted to share his story and each time he said he'd wait. Everyone he knew, that he associated with _knew_ his story and never asked for details. Hell, they'd _seen_ the details, the pictures of the crime scene, the forensic evidence, the record of his statement. He'd never had to tell it, after the first time with the police and he didn't think he could tell it now.

And there was the fact that as sad as all the other stories were, they didn't compare in horror to what had happened to Charlotte and Angela. He didn't want to burden people already suffering with the details of a crime too horrible to describe.

No, he wanted to leave this place, this place of pain and loss of light and hope. This was a terrible place, a place he didn't need to be.

But there was something that held him back. Maybe it was the look on the faces of the others - the looks that said they felt like him, at least those who hadn't spoken as of yet. But strangely, after each person told their story – the story of their greatest pain, their faces changed. No, they didn't look happy, but instead a strange sort of relief settled over them. Jane could see it clearly and he wondered.

The only other person who had not spoken was one of the two women who was there by herself. Carl had called her Andrea and she, like him, had asked to be skipped. Now that everyone else had spoken but the two of them Carl turned back to her.

"Andrea, did you want to tell us about your daughter? You don't have to if you don't want to." He said it gently, with compassion and suddenly Andrea seemed to relax, the taut muscles in her shoulders letting go, slightly, her hands unclenching.

"Christina was thirteen", she said so softly it was hard to hear her speak. "She was the light of my world. We were so close – her father died when she was three and it was always just the two of us but that was okay", she smiled slightly. "We called ourselves the _invincibles_. She loved to dance and to sing – she was always twirling around the house, singing and laughing. She was my baby."

Andrea stopped, her eyes dry but looking somewhere beyond the room she was in, as if looking at something that was not here. Jane suddenly had a horrible feeling – a feeling of fear and dread and he actually tensed, ready to get up and leave. It was then that she glanced over at him and caught his eye. For some reason that made him stop. It was as if they had connected and he could feel a shiver of something pass over him. He didn't know what it was but it made him stay where he was.

"She was murdered", Andrea said in a small voice. "She was walking home from her dance class – I was to have picked her up but got held up at work. She was kidnapped and then raped and left with her throat cut. She was my baby."

Oh God! He felt sick – he wanted to throw something, to hit something. Why had he come here? He couldn't take this, didn't _want_ to be here. Again, he tried to leave, but something was keeping him back. It was almost as if there was a presence _begging_ him to stay.

NO! He closed his eyes. There was nothing – there was no one there. He didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. He shook his head – he couldn't bear this. STOP!

Andrea continued to speak, once the words had left her mouth it was as if she couldn't stop. She spoke some more about her daughter, about how she missed her, about her guilt and all the while she spoke Patrick could feel something shattering inside him.

Once she had finished, her tears finally coming in great rivulets of anguish, there was silence in the room. Each person sat there, white with shock and pain – but also with eyes of compassion and understanding. They _knew_ how she felt. Their stories might be different, but the pain was the same. Patrick could also see the guilt that so many of them carried even though not all had expressed it.

Suddenly the tenor in the room changed. Yes, it was filled with pain and anguish and loss, but there was also something – peaceful in here. Where at the beginning there had been _only_ pain, now there was some small semblance of – he wouldn't call it hope – but maybe something not quite so dark.

"Thank you Andrea", Carl said softly. He reached out and gave her a very gentle, very light touch on her knee. "I know that was hard but thank you for telling us about Christina. What a beautiful girl."

Andrea nodded and gave a wobbly smile. She wiped her face and then looked directly at Patrick. He almost flinched back, understanding that she somehow knew – that she was now handing the turn to him. Her eyes looked at him – not just with compassion, which he had experienced from many people, but with total understanding.

He felt the breath leave his body. He wanted to cry – to weep. She understood. Someone _knew_ what he was feeling. The thought lifted a burden he didn't even know he had.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I was a psychic – or I pretended to be one, although in reality I was nothing but a con man", he started softly, the words grating slowly past his lips. "I was also arrogant and thoughtless and because of that I killed my wife and my daughter …"


	14. Of Trust and Trying

_**A long chapter to make up for the previous short one! Thank you to all my kind reviewers - especially to the 'guests' to whom I can't reply directly. **_

_**This story is going off in a direction I hadn't planned but I'm enjoying it - I hope you are too. Lots and lots of reviews are coveted and greatly appreciated.**_

_**Liline: Merci beaucoup! Votre anglais est bien meilleur que mon francais. Je suis heureux que vous profitez de mes histoires et je vais terminer tous.**_

He slept for twelve hours that night, not stirring even once. In fact, when he actually _did_ wake up he was so groggy he could barely move. He blinked a couple of times, not quite sure where he was. When finally the surroundings became clear and he recognized his Airstream, he allowed himself to relax again.

The next time he woke up he was a bit more aware, although the unaccustomed long sleep had actually made him feel more tired than usual. He forced himself to sit up and stretch. "Gah", he groaned, his muscles feeling as if they'd seized up. He needed a hot shower and a cup of tea before he could face the day. In the meantime he refused to let any thought, other than that of hot water or hot tea enter his tired brain.

By the time he was sitting down at the small table in what passed for the kitchen, a teacup held lovingly between two hands, he was ready to finally face what had happened last night.

It had been something he'd never really experienced before. The only thing he could compare it to was that short AA meeting he'd attended when working undercover on the Santa murder. Still, he hadn't really said much during that meeting whereas last night he'd … God, he wanted to pound his head on the table. He'd said things he had never, ever spoken about before. He didn't know whether to feel angry, embarrassed or possibly – just possibly – a sense of relief.

He thought back to all that had happened, pretty sure he wasn't about to go back. He was not a bereaved parent. He refused to think of himself that way – although a small, honest corner of his mind acknowledged that that was exactly what he was. For some reason he wanted to avoid that label – it smacked too much of the victim, of pity and tragedy.

"Right!" he laughed ironically, taking another sip of tea. "And how _don't_ they fit you?"

His mind returned to that small room. He'd managed to tell everyone his story –the whole thing including his guilt, his feelings when he saw the bloody bodies of the two people he loved most in this world and his ultimate and long-lasting quest for vengeance. The only thing he didn't talk about was the fact that he'd actually killed Red John. He didn't want to scare the people there, although one of the men had suddenly looked as if he remembered something so he probably knew about it already.

After he'd finished there had been silence in the room. He hadn't been able to look at anyone, uncertain of how they'd now regard him. Would they look at him with pity for having experienced such a horrific tragedy, blame – for the deaths of Angela and Charlotte – or would they look at him with fear for his unrelenting quest to find and punish their killer.

It was one of the men – Andrew was his name – who broke the silence. "I'm so sorry Patrick", he said gently. "I can't imagine what you must have been through - what you must be going through. And I want you to know, if they had been my wife and child, I wouldn't have rested either until I killed the bastard that did that to them!"

There were murmurs in the room and, to Jane's shock, they weren't sounds of disagreement or horror but rather of people who agreed with the sentiment. He finally looked up, to see faces of people who felt nothing but understanding and compassion – not pity – for him. At that moment he felt something – something in his chest. It was a strange feeling, not bad, but unrecognized. He put it aside even though he was aware that it was probably important.

The evening had ended then, with Carl telling everyone that it was important they return the next week. "This has been hard, I know. But I promise it does get better after this. If you don't come back you're only going to remember the pain. But I promise there's more than that here. There's hope, even if you don't see it now."

With that he told them good night and to drive safely. "This takes a lot out of you, physically as well as emotionally, so be safe on your way home."

No one said anything as they all stood and headed out of the room. As Andrew passed him he put out his hand and squeezed Jane's shoulder. "Take care", he said softly. With that he was gone.

Jane was almost the last one out except for Andrea, who looked as if she was waiting for him. Something about that made him feel uncomfortable although another part was curious. After a moment's hesitation she walked over to him. "Thank you", was all she said.

"For what?"

"For – sharing Charlotte and Angela with us. For making me realize that I'm not alone. For understanding what I feel. And - " She stopped speaking, her mouth closing suddenly as if to prohibit any more words from spilling out.

He knew instantly that she wanted to say something but was afraid. He almost nodded and left, but something – something he refused to acknowledge held him back. "What?" he asked, staring at her intently.

"I – are you sure – you're not _really_ a psychic?"

Hell! He didn't want this – didn't need this. He was ready to open his mouth and give a blistering reply. He didn't need a 'believer' begging him for something he couldn't provide. One look into her eyes stopped him cold. Instead he took a deep breath. "No, there are no such things as psychics", he told her, as gently as he could. "I was a con man, and only pretended to speak to the dead but gave that up after losing my family."

She nodded and he couldn't tell whether she was disappointed or relieved. There was something more there though – something he was unable to read. That, in and of itself frightened him.

"I didn't think there was", she finally admitted. "It's just – when I saw you I felt -"

"What? What did you feel?" he wanted to reach out and shake her, to stop her. "Not that I'm a psychic because I'm not. Don't ever think that – ever!"

She stared at him, her eyes tracking his face as if looking for something. "I'm sorry. I guess it's late. I hope – I hope you come back next week."

He shrugged and stepped back, letting her pass. Carl was standing at the door, patiently waiting for them. As Jane passed he too reached out and touched his arm. "Please come back Patrick. I think you need it and the group needs you. And thank you for telling your story. I know how much courage that took."

Jane gave a sharp nod. He wasn't willing to accept any kind of praise for what was his shame. Without answering Carl he left. He got into his car, drove home and immediately went to bed and to sleep.

So now he was reliving the evening and wondering what the hell he'd been thinking to go to something like that. He didn't need to sit around and pull out all the old memories and guilt. He needed to get on with his life, not live in the past.

As he finished his tea and washed the cup he took a deep breath. It was funny – but he felt different this morning. He didn't know quite what it was. It could be that he'd had a good sleep but he felt more rested – _lighter _–then he had in – a long, long time. In fact, the only thing he could compare it to was how he felt when Lisbon had admitted she loved him.

Thinking of Lisbon made him stop. He hadn't really thought about her when he was at the meeting last evening, nor had he given her a thought when he'd gone to bed or when he'd gotten up. He suddenly felt terribly guilty. What was wrong with him? He _loved_ her for god's sake! She was the center of his life.

He stayed seated at the table and poured himself another cup of tea. Refusing to let himself off the hook, he pondered what was going on. It actually didn't take that long to realize. It wasn't that he didn't love her and need her, it's just that what he went through with his wife and child – the pain, the loss, wasn't something she could really ever understand. He knew she felt badly for him and suffered about it for his sake, but it wasn't the same. The people that were there last night though – they could understand.

He started to feel guilty again and then stopped himself. Teresa didn't need to know, to understand. In fact, if he truly wanted to go on with his life it was better that be with someone who didn't have that darkness, that wound etched on their soul.

He knew she had wounds of her own and that they enabled her to be patient of his – but he also knew that she was strong and she could bring him out of his darkness and into her light. No, he wasn't going to feel guilty that she hadn't been a part of this short journey into the past, instead he was going to relish the love she brought and that she'd be with him on the to the future.

And then the thought crashed down on him. There was a child, _his_ child. They had together created a child – a child he couldn't, wouldn't raise. But if he didn't, then he couldn't have Lisbon. Could he bear to give her up? To protect a child he could. But then –would he want to go on?

The thoughts and questions swirled around in his brain, negating the positive effects of his restful sleep. Eventually he stood up, needing to get out, to expend some energy.

He drove to the lake and parked his car. Soon he was walking along the trail, enjoying the warm weather and trying to relax.

Teresa sighed as she tried to make her way through the paperwork on her desk. Where was Jane? Why hadn't he called? She knew from Grace that he'd flown back to Austin a couple of days ago, so why hadn't he been in touch?

He was going to have to be back at work next week, so he couldn't stay away permanently. Unless he ran away, her small voice said.

No – he wouldn't do that to her. She thought about his words to her, to Grace and Wayne. Whatever happened, he wouldn't leave her without saying something.

But why hadn't he called?

Jane got back to his trailer and realized it was almost dinnertime. He'd spent the afternoon outside and felt more relaxed. He checked his watch, thinking that Lisbon would just about be leaving work, unless they'd caught a case. He knew he needed to call her. She probably knew from Grace that he was back and she'd be angry that he hadn't called. He knew why he hadn't. He hadn't come to a decision yet and didn't know what to say to her.

* * *

"Teresa?" he whispered into his phone, closing his eyes at the sound of her voice.

"_Jane. Where are you?"_

"I'm at my trailer. I wanted to let you know I got in safely."

"_Right – three days ago."_

"I'm sorry – I wanted to call, I just didn't know what to say."

"_How about the truth Jane? Or is that too much to ask of you?"_

He closed his eyes, a feeling of both anger and guilt rushing over him. Unfortunately the anger won out. "Truth Teresa? Is that all you want from me? Oh, I guess so since you already got everything else you wanted." He spit the words out, knowing that she would be shocked at his rare anger.

"_What? What are you talking about?"_

"About you getting pregnant. Don't tell me it was an _accident_! You were on the pill. This was intentional. You felt like your clock was ticking and you wanted a kid. You also knew I didn't so you went ahead and decided this on your own."

There was a pause and then Teresa answered. Rather than sounding angry her voice came across as unutterably weary and sad. "_It was an accident Patrick. I would never do anything like that to you. But if you believe that of me, if you don't trust me, then I guess it doesn't matter. Take care Patrick – have a nice life. And don't worry – I won't come after you for support. You can forget about the baby_."

He felt such a stab of pain at that – and her assumption that it was over – that he practically doubled over in pain. He knew he had brief seconds before she hung up the phone. _"Teresa!"_ he cried. Please, let her still be there.

There was another pause but he could hear her breathing. "_What_?" she finally said. _"Jane, there's no point in this. Just – let me go."_

He was instantly transported back to that hotel in Florida where she'd said the same thing to him. He'd been an idiot then and he'd almost lost her and here he was, doing it again.

"I'm sorry Teresa – I'm sorry. I didn't mean that – really. I _know_ you didn't do this on purpose. I just – I don't know what to think or feel about a child and I'm scared and – I lashed out and I'm sorry."

"_And getting mad at me is easier than knowing how to deal with everything."_

"Yeah – I guess that's true. I _am_ sorry. Please believe me that I really don't believe that you did it on purpose." He sighed. "I'm an idiot."

"_Yes_", she sighed as well. "_But you are my idiot and I'd hate to lose you now after already putting up with you all these years_."

He let out a snort of laughter, tinged by tears. "You'd get bored without me."

"_Yes, yes I would."_

"You'd miss my humor."

She sighed. "_Really? Okay yeah – most of the time_."

"And the back rubs."

"_Definitely_ _the back rubs_."

"And the sex?"

"_That's right up at the top of things I'd miss_."

"And making me tea?"

The silence was thick.

"Lisbon?"

"_Yes Jane_?"

"Tea?"

"_Okay, but only on special occasions_."

"Alright, I can live with that." Patrick took another breath. "Teresa – I'm trying to work this all out but – I don't know how long it's going to take, or even _if_ I can."

"_You can Jane. You're one of the bravest men I know_."

He choked at that. Brave? He was a raging coward. Still, if she believed it that meant he had to try and live up to her faith in him. "I don't know Lisbon. The thought of a child still terrifies me."

"_I know, and I'm not asking that you figure it out right now, just that you – try."_

"I am", he answered softly.

"_I miss you Patrick."_

"I miss you too." He wanted to get into his car and rush over to see her, but knew it was too soon. He needed the space to think, to make the right decision and he couldn't if he was with her. He had one more week until he went back to work. Could he figure things out by then?

"I want to see you", he told her, "and hold you but – I can't right now. It's not you, believe me. I just need some time to figure all this out."

"_I understand and I won't pressure you. Just – check in with me, okay? If I don't hear from you I get kind of panicky_."

"I will – I'll call every day. It's only for a week Lisbon and then I'll be back at work."

"_How are we going to handle that_?"

"I don't know", he answered, frustrated and tired. He ran his hands through his hair. "Let's just be the friends we were for so many years. I don't want to lose that, but I can't see you outside of work, not yet."

"_Okay, I understand. Take care of yourself and don't get into any trouble_."

"I won't, I promise."

She laughed at that. "_Right! I love you_."

"And I love you too. I'll try to figure this out as quickly as possible", he tried to encourage her.

"_I know Jane, I know_."

After he hung up the phone he continued to sit, not paying attention to the growing darkness or listening to his stomach as it growled from hunger. Damn it – why couldn't he just make up his mind and make a decision. This was killing him.

* * *

Right up until the moment he arrived he had been sure he wouldn't come back. But here he was, sitting in the same spot as last week. He glanced around and noticed that all the others were also seated in the same place. We are such creatures of habit, he thought. He also deduced that sitting in the same spot gave a sense of security, something they all desperately needed.

"Good evening everyone", Carl looked around the room and smiled. "I'm so glad to see that everyone came back. I always live in fear that I'll return and I'll be the only one who came back."

There were a couple of giggles from the participants, but when Jane looked all he could see was guilt on the faces of the ones who had laughed. That was just not done, he guessed. Humor had no place in a room that was all about death.

That night was much the same as the previous week although not quite so heavy. Everyone talked a bit more about what they felt and experienced. One of the things that surprised Jane was the fact that many of the parents struggled with the fact that they _didn't_ have anyone to blame. There was no place to focus that blame so they focused it inward. They focused on whether they'd done some that had caused their child's cancer or that their own bodies, that genetics were to blame.

Marissa struggled with the fact that her mother had been driving the car when she and her child had been killed. She went from grieving over her mother's death to blaming her.

Andrea spoke near the end, talking about the fact that no one knew who had killed her daughter. He had never been caught.

Again it was Jane who went last. He thought it ironic in that in this one instance he was maybe luckier than the others. He _knew_ who was responsible, who to blame – and he'd gone out and killed the man. He breathed deeply, unsure of what to say. Finally he spoke.

"Knowing doesn't make it any easier", he said softly, surprised at his own words. "I knew who had killed my family and I went after him, I hunted him down. All that did was take my grief and turn it into anger and hate and because of that", he paused and swallowed, "because of that I don't think I ever _really_ let myself grieve. I thought that finding him would help."

"And did it?" Carl asked softly, without judgment.

"It gave me satisfaction. It gave me vengeance. It didn't take away the pain."

It was in the silence that followed that Jane realized he hadn't even been aware of the truth of what he'd just said. It had come from somewhere deep inside and yet it was the truth – a truth he'd never wanted to acknowledge. Focusing on Red John had meant he didn't have to focus on the fact that never again would he hear Angela's voice, never again would he tease her and love her and be himself with her. It meant that he wouldn't feel his daughter's hugs or be able to watch her grow. Knowing who was responsible and even killing him didn't change the fact that he still suffered from the loss of those he loved.

"Thank you", Jenny, Matthew's mom, looked at him and smiled. "Hearing you say that helps. But I think you're forgetting something Patrick."

He looked at her – this woman who usually said very little, who was the picture of sadness. "I did?"

"Yes. You forgot that you stopped a man who was a killer. Because of you he'll never kill again. I know that doesn't stop the grief but you did something good. You called it vengeance I call it justice."

He moved uncomfortably in his chair. It was true that part of his quest was to stop Red John from killing, although he sometimes wondered if the sadistic killer had left more victims because of him.

"Don't take on his sins Patrick", Carl told him. "You were not responsible for any of what he did and you eventually brought him to justice. Now however, you _are_ free to grieve."

He nodded, unable to speak. The rest of the parents seemed to realize he needed space and they turned their attention to something else. By the end of the evening he was again exhausted and left without speaking to anyone.

He had another night where he slept soundly, waking this time to the sounds of his alarm. He groaned and hit it, wanting to sleep some more. On the second alarm he forced himself to wake up. It was then that he remembered that today was the day he was going back to work.

Even though he'd slept in he was actually early to work. He was so nervous he hadn't been able to eat breakfast and had hurried to the FBI headquarters. When he got there he immediately made a cup of tea, frowning when he saw his hands were shaking.

Who had been the idiot who had decided it would be a good idea not to see Teresa before today? Why had that idiot – one Patrick Jane – not realized that seeing her for the first time in two weeks at work was a stupid plan?

At least they'd spoken every night. The conversation had never veered into any discussion of the baby or what his decision was going to be, for which he was grateful. They had kept it light, although both of them knew the other was suffering. Still, even though he'd talked to her he hadn't seen her and he was scared.

He made his way back to his couch, passing Cho who had just arrived.

"Back?" Cho didn't look up from pulling out some files

"Yes."

"About time. You're an idiot you know."

He sighed. "I know."

"Good. So fix it."

He nodded, not caring whether Cho saw or not and headed to the couch. He sat down and tried taking a sip, grimacing as he almost spilled it. He finally put it down after realizing that it was too big a tell. His hands were shaking so badly the cup was rattling.

Just then he saw Abbott walk in, followed by some of the other agents. The office had awoken for the day. He kept his eyes on the entrance way and finally – she walked in.

The moment he saw her he lost the ability to breathe. She was so beautiful and he was so stupid. He noticed that she appeared to have lost weight and he wondered briefly if it was him or the baby that had caused that. He thought it was too soon for morning sickness but then realized he didn't even know how far along she was.

She hadn't seen him yet, stopping and saying hi to a few people, giving them a smile. He knew her well enough to know it was a mask. She was suffering but was too proud to let anyone see. He glanced at Cho and instantly knew that he knew. It explained his comments.

It was then that she saw him. She stopped dead, but only for a brief moment. No one else noticed and she continued her path to her desk.

It hit him in a blinding flash. What the hell had he been thinking? He loved her and she loved him, in spite of all his faults. She'd stuck with him through everything, even through this latest act of stupidity and selfishness. She brought him joy into what had been a very bleak existence. And he was thinking of giving that up?

He stood slowly, staring at her. She stopped then, giving him a strange look back. "Jane?" she asked, sounding unsure.

He continued to stare. She was his life, his soul, his everything. What did anything else matter if he had her?

"Jane, what's wrong?"

Others were starting to notice. The early morning buzz began to quiet. Abbott stepped out of his office and frowned, trying to figure out what was going on. Even Cho had stopped what he was doing and was regarding them intently.

He took a step forward. He knew what he had to do. He nodded once to himself and then strode forward quickly. Grasping Lisbon's wrist he pulled her behind him, towards the hallway.

"Jane, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer, just continued to tug her along. Damn – why the hell did they have to be in a modern building? All the meeting rooms were made of glass and he couldn't take her where anyone could see.

They walked by Abbott, who started to say something, but Jane simply ignored him. Abbott just shook his head and turned back into his office. He'd let them figure it out.

Was there no place, he wondered, frustrated? Finally he saw a door and pulling Teresa with him, walked over and opened it. Good, a storage closet. He walked in, still grasping her wrist, and slammed the door behind him. He finally let go of her.

"Jane, what is this? Why did you drag me in here?"

He responded by taking her head in his two hands, leaning down and kissing her passionately.

At first she resisted. She couldn't figure out what was going on. Jane had looked so strange, so unlike himself. But after a moment she couldn't help but respond, couldn't help but melt into him and return his kiss. God, this felt so good. She had been so afraid, so lonely.

They stayed together, kissing and caressing one another and not speaking for a long time. It was Teresa who finally returned to the present. "Jane?" she pushed gently against his chest until she could lean back and look at him. "What is this?"

He sighed and leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. "I just realized", he answered.

"Realized what?" she asked softly, reaching up and gently pushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

"That I can't live without you, that I don't _want _to live without you. That I have been stupid and cruel and that nothing else matters but you."

"Jane!" she leaned forward this time, placing her head over his heart. "You don't have to live without me because you're all that matters to me."

"I was so stupid Teresa", he repeated. "I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can you trust me?" he asked the harder question, knowing he'd done everything in his power to destroy that trust.

She was quiet for a moment, thinking about that. "I trust you", she finally said. "I think it's _you_ who doesn't trust."

"I trust you Teresa – you know that."

"I know. It's yourself you don't trust Jane. You're strong and you've dealt with more than most people ever have to – and you can deal with this, I know you can."

He sighed. "I – wish I could believe that but – it may take a while."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"No – and this time – neither am I."

The tears escaped her eyes then. She could hear it in his voice and whatever small bit of doubt had existed now left. Whatever happened, Jane was here to stay. He would not leave her again, that she knew, and for that she thanked God.

"What about the baby?" She wished she hadn't had to bring it up, but it was between them and was not something that would go away if ignored.

"I – I'm not going anywhere and if that means I have to be a father again then, I just have to accept that. It's still not something I want – oh, don't get me wrong – children are wonderful and I know you'll be an amazing mother. I just – it's not something I should do."

"But you will?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She had to bite her lip but after a moment composing herself she looked at him. "Thank you", she whispered. "You won't regret it, I promise."

He gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid that's not something you can promise Teresa. If there's anyone who knows that it's me. But I'll try just – give me some time, okay? I'm not going anywhere but I can't deal with the reality of it right now. I'm trying and I'll continue to try but please don't expect me to talk about it or go shopping or come up with names or anything like that. I just can't."

She nodded. He'd already taken a huge step and she couldn't ask for more. All she could do was hope that things would change when his son or daughter came into the world.

"You realize we now have to walk out after having been in a storage closet for almost an hour?" She knew he needed to change the subject, to stop talking about the serious stuff.

He grinned – a smile she hadn't seen in a long while. "You think they'll know that we're together now?"

She snorted. "If they don't they're the worst bunch of detectives on the face of the Earth."

"What do you think they think we were doing?" he grinned again, looking quite devilish.

She groaned and leaned her head forward until it rested on his chest. "I'm so embarrassed."

He leaned down and kissed her. "Almost as bad as the airplane, huh?"

"Worse, much worse."

He laughed and opened the door. Grabbing her hand he pulled her back towards the bullpen. He was finally letting the world see that he and Teresa were a couple – and he couldn't be happier.


	15. Of Healing and Home

Life went on. After the drama of the last few weeks Lisbon was glad to return to a more calm and peaceful existence – at least as calm and peaceful as life with Jane could ever be.

He seemed much more grounded, much happier - at least as far as their relationship was concerned. She was confident that he was moving past some of his previous issues and was beginning to believe that he deserved some happiness in life.

Of course the topic of her pregnancy didn't come up to spoil his hard-won peace. She knew that in many ways he was living in avoidance, but she really couldn't blame him. He'd been honest about it and she was sure he really was trying.

At least she _hoped_ he was. She had seen no outward sign of it but she knew that didn't necessarily mean anything. Jane was a man who could hold things pretty close to his chest when he wanted. The other possibility was that he was just drifting. Unfortunately she really couldn't ask him.

Her pregnancy didn't show as yet, which made it possible for him to continue to ignore the issue. She did experience a bit of morning sickness, and she knew he noticed. He didn't say anything but he began to bring her a lightly buttered piece of toast and ginger tea in the morning before she got up. They both helped, and she was grateful, although she didn't say anything other than 'thank you'.

As the weeks progressed she began to notice other little things. He was gentler during sex, although still passionate. He was more insistent that she eat properly and get enough rest and gave her a rough time if he thought she was working too hard.

He still didn't speak about the baby or even acknowledge the pregnancy – at least not in words – but his actions warmed her. They showed he cared, even though he couldn't talk about it. She just prayed that there would come a time when he _could_ talk about it, otherwise their relationship was bound to be affected.

She sat thinking about all these things as they drove home from work. Now that everyone knew they were a couple they no longer had to pretend or to arrive separately. Jane was quiet and she wondered if something was bothering him. As far as she knew nothing was wrong, but he appeared tense. She glanced over at him a couple of times before speaking.

"So, I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to relaxing this evening. Let's just order in and then watch TV."

"Hmm?" he answered, sounding distracted.

"I said let's relax tonight. I want to just curl up with you and not think about work or anything."

"Uh -"

"What?" she frowned. She had been right. Something was off.

"I have to go out", he told her. He glanced at her again, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh." When he didn't say anything more she gave a tiny shrug. "Do you have time for dinner?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything more, although he continued to look distracted. She tried to imagine what was going on – where he could be going, but she didn't have a clue. In past years she would have been sure it was something to do with Red John, but now, as far as she knew, there was nothing he was involved in.

They got home and Jane immediately went into the bedroom and changed. She had to laugh at that. He'd fallen in love with comfortable clothes and no longer spent all his time in suits. She had to admit that she loved the more casual man.

She followed him into the bedroom and kicked off her shoes. She was exhausted and flopped down on the bed. The extreme tiredness of early pregnancy was starting to wear off, but she still was more tired than normal.

"Are you okay?" he came out of the bathroom, a worried note in his voice.

"Mmm. I'm fine. Just tired."

"You have to take it easier Teresa", he said sternly. "You're working too hard."

"I'm working like I've always worked Patrick."

"Yes, but you weren't – it's different now. Please look after yourself."

She nodded her head, her eyes filling with tears. That's the closest he'd come to even acknowledging her pregnancy and even that little bit sent her into tears. Damn! This situation was awful.

She tried to wipe away the moisture before he noticed, but of course that didn't happen. She heard him sigh and then felt the bed dip as he sat down. "Come here", he said softly.

With a cry she practically flung herself at him. The next thing she knew she was crying all over his shoulder. She didn't know why – it was ridiculous really. She was tougher than this and there was no reason to be upset.

He held her and gently rocked her. "It's okay Teresa, it's okay." Of course that just made her cry harder.

Jane sat holding her, knowing exactly what had set her off. God, how could he do this to her? She was pregnant with his child and he couldn't even talk to her about it. He could instantly feel the knot of fear bunch up in his gut. He knew, that for her sake, he had to say something. He kissed her gently on the side of the head. "Teresa."

After a moment he sighed and resettled her on his lap. "Teresa, come on, look at me." There were a few sniffs, and he got the vague impression she might have wiped her face on his shirt. He laughed. That's what true love was all about.

"Teresa." The third time was the charm and with a final sniff she lifted her head.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm just being silly."

"No you're not", he sighed. "You're tired, you're pregnant and you have to deal with a selfish ass of a man. I'm sorry – I really don't mean to put you through this."

"You aren't putting me through anything", she cried. "You were totally honest with me and I understand. I'm just – it's that I'm tired, that's all."

"Yes, well you shouldn't _have _to understand. Look, I want to tell you something and hopefully it will make you feel a bit better."

"What?" she rearranged herself so that she was looking directly at him. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He'd been thinking for days about telling her, but hadn't yet found the courage. He didn't know why he felt so embarrassed, so humiliated by the whole thing. There was nothing at all wrong about going to a support group. In fact, he knew she'd approve. Whatever it was, though, he felt a terrible need to keep it a secret.

"Jane – it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want me to know."

He let out a loud breath at that. "You are way too good to me Teresa. And yes, I have to tell you because you deserve to know."

"Okay", she reached over and took his hand, clasping it tightly. "Then tell me."

"After – no – before I left the Rigsby's house Wayne said something to me that I realized was the truth. He told me I needed to do something about the way I felt, that I wasn't being fair to you or to the child."

"_Wayne_ said that?"

"Mmm hmm. He also hit me", he told her, sounding like he still didn't believe it."

She gurgled. "I know, Grace told me."

"And I'm sure you enjoyed the fact."

"We- ell – I was a bit angry."

He snorted. "Right. Well anyway, after I got back I started thinking about what he said so I – did something."

"What was it?"

"I called – a number – it was for an organization called -"

"Jane!"

"Sorry", he sighed. "Bereaved Parents. It's a support group for parents who have lost a child."

Lisbon was silent, staring at the man on whose lap she was still sitting. She swallowed. "Really?"

"Yes." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I thought maybe – it might – help."

"Did you go?"

He nodded. "I've been twice. I swore I wouldn't go back after the first week but I ended up going again. There's another session tonight."

"And that's where you're going?"

He nodded again, biting his lower lip and watching her closely. The next thing he knew it was _her_ lips against his – but kissing him wildly.

A few minutes later a slightly dazed Jane sat back. "So I guess – you're okay with it?"

She laughed and rested her head on his chest. "Did I tell you I love you?"

"Mmm, but not enough – never enough."

"Well I do, I love you. _Thank_ you Patrick."

He felt slightly uncomfortable but then nodded. He needed to say something to her and he didn't know how she'd take it. "It's – hard", he said of the group, "but helpful. The people there understand."

She watched him, barely blinking. "That's good. Are they – counselors?"

"No, they're parents. Everyone there has lost a child. You see they_ know_ what I'm feeling and that helps. It's like – I don't have to say anything and they know – and because of that I _can_ say things."

"I'm so glad Patrick. You've needed this."

"Maybe. Sometimes I think I'm just dredging up stuff I should let go."

"How can you let it go when it's still festering beneath the surface? At least this way you can bring it into the open and then let it go."

"My little philosopher", he chuckled, kissing her on the nose. After a second he frowned. "Lisbon", he said, seeming to forget that he rarely used that name anymore outside of work, "I need to ask you a favor."

"Of course. Anything."

"I need you to accept that I may not be able to tell you what goes on there. It's not that I don't trust you because I do. It's just – you may not be able to understand some of it. I don't mean to belittle you in any way it's just -"

"You had to experience it to truly understand?"

He nodded. "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. Just please – if you don't want to tell me things because you need to keep them to yourself – that's fine, just promise me that you won't do it to try and protect me. You said yourself I'm strong and I've already seen the worst that people can do. I doubt there's anything you could say that would horrify me."

He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "My tough lady."

"You promise?"

"Okay fine", he sighed. After a few more minutes spent holding each other Patrick moved. "I think we better get something to eat", he finally told her. "I'm hungry and I have to leave in forty-five minutes."

* * *

The session was easier that evening. Someone actually laughed out loud and Carl said that was a good thing. "Laughter is not bad", he told them. "It doesn't mean you're forgetting your child, it just means you're alive."

Part of the way through the evening, shortly after he'd shared a story about Charlotte, he began to get a strange feeling. He didn't know quite what it was, although it felt vaguely familiar. He glanced around to see if anyone else seemed to notice, but no one seemed at all bothered.

He flexed his fingers, took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. If anything that made whatever it was worse. It reminded him of those little gnats that fly by your ear, making a high whining sound. You couldn't see them or catch them but they drove you crazy.

He noticed a few minutes later that Andrea was looking at him closely. He didn't quite know what to make of the woman. She appeared to have some kind of obsession about him because he always caught her looking at him. He felt a shiver run down his spine and turned back to the conversation.

After the meeting Andrea approached him. He felt like stepping back but didn't want to hurt her feelings. She had done nothing wrong. "Andrea", he said, giving a nod. "How are you doing this evening?"

"Better – which surprises me actually" she told him. "There is something about these sessions that– cheers me up."

"Mmm hmm", he agreed, wanting to edge to the door.

"Patrick", she cried as he moved away from her. "Please, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." His 'trouble is brewing' radar was on full alert. "What is it?"

"You – you work for the FBI?"

"I'm a consultant." He tried to remember if he'd mentioned it but knew he hadn't. She must have looked him up somewhere.

"Well – I was wondering if you could help." Before he had a chance to say anything she rushed on. "I told you – everyone – that they hadn't caught the man that hurt and killed my daughter."

He nodded, suddenly knowing what was coming. He closed his eyes briefly, really not wanting to take this on.

"The police looked into it but couldn't find any proof. Could you – would you see if there's anything you can do. You understand, more than anyone, what it means to bring the person who did this to justice. Please."

"Andrea – yes, I understand. I also understand that it might be better to let it go. I spent ten years of my life searching for a killer. You don't want to do that." He wanted to laugh at himself for giving her the advice that so many had tried to give him over the years. It hadn't worked for him, he was sure it wouldn't work for her.

"If I need to spend ten year, _twenty_ year, I will. Patrick, how can I possibly live knowing he's still out there, probably hurting other girls? Please, just – look into it?"

Jane wanted to refuse, but there was something that was pushing him, something beyond Andrea. It frightened him and made him uncomfortable in a way he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He refused to put a name to it, to acknowledge it, but it was there and for some reason he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore it.

He breathed in deeply and then let it out. "Okay. I'll see what I find, but I can't promise anything."

"That's fine and thank you." She reached over and put her hand on his. He wanted to jerk it away, feeling disturbed when she touched him. "Here", she said, finally pulling her hand back and reaching into her purse, "here's my number. Call me if you find anything."

He reluctantly took the card, only glancing at it briefly. Andrea Scott. "Thank you. I will."

"Maybe one night – after the group – we could go and get coffee", she said softly. "I think we have a lot in common."

His eyes closed briefly. He had to stop this now. "Uh, I don't think that would be a good idea", he told her gently. He gave her a kind smile. "I'm afraid my girlfriend wouldn't like it and she's a pretty tough FBI agent."

He could see her face fall but she recovered quickly. "I just meant to talk about the case, but I understand. Thank you for doing this."

He nodded and gave her a smile. "'til next week then."

As he drove home, again tired from the emotions of the evening, he wondered what the hell he'd gotten into. It was pretty obvious that Andrea was interested in him. He hoped he'd nipped that in the bud, although he suspected she might continue to try – subtly. What worried him even more was the strange feeling he got every time he went to the weekly session.

He was pretty sure it didn't have anything to do with the group itself. It was something different. He shook himself slightly. He was imagining things. There were a lot of emotions in that room. That was all he was feeling.

He refused to think about it anymore and instead set his mind on the woman waiting for him at home and smiled. Teresa. Now there was a woman to keep him grounded.

It was only as he pulled into the driveway that he realized he had thought of this as home. It was the first time in twelve years that he'd _had_ a home. He smiled. It was about time to make this official, he decided. He was finally ready.

With a light step he walked up to his front door and opened it. "Honey, I'm home!"


	16. Of Quests and Cases

_**Thank you to all of you who wrote such lovely and encouraging reviews! I will reply to you directly (to those who signed in) but wanted to say thank you here.**_

_**In regards to this chapter ... I do not plan to write a case file fic, even though this chapter may seem like it. This story is more about the Patrick/Teresa relationship and the things they have to deal with as they move forward. I may do more of a case file after this one is finished.**_

_**Thanks! **_

"Cho, can I talk to you?"

"Sure. What about?" Cho swiveled around in his chair and looked at Jane. The man looked way better than he had that night, weeks ago, when Cho had found him in his car. Cho was happy for them, although Teresa had asked that he not talk at all about the pregnancy, to Jane or anyone else. He worried that they were avoiding the issue and that it would jump up and bite them in the ass, but it wasn't his place to say anything.

He wondered briefly if Grace, Wayne and he should schedule an intervention and get Jane straightened out once and for all. Yeah, like that would ever happen. He didn't think he'd ever met a more intractable person than Patrick Jane.

"I need to find the record for a murder case. I checked our files but don't see it anywhere."

"What's the name?"

"Christina Scott. It's a cold case – happened about eighteen months ago."

"Did you check to see if anyone else has the file?"

Jane shook his head. "There are no records listed with that name in our cold case files."

"You're sure it's an FBI case?"

"No, it could have been the local police, but I'm not sure how to get one of their files."

"You just file an interagency transfer. If it's a cold case it shouldn't be a problem. If someone is still working on it they'll want to know why you need it."

"How do you get a transfer?"

Cho frowned up at him, suddenly suspicious. This reminded him too much of the old Jane. "Why do you want it? And why didn't you ask Lisbon?"

Jane sighed and glanced around. Teresa was in with Abbott and he'd taken this chance to talk to Kimball. For some reason he really hadn't wanted to tell her about this case. There was something about it that bothered him and he didn't want her mixed up in it. He knew if she found out she'd kill him.

He knew the only way out of this was to tell Cho what was going on, something he didn't want to do.

"Look, let's go to the cafeteria and I'll buy you a coffee and explain."

Cho's eyes narrowed. Something was definitely up with Jane. "I want the truth – not one of you stories."

Jane nodded, looking serious. "It will be, I promise."

After they'd sat down, Cho with coffee, Jane with tea, the agent nodded. "Okay, what's this about?"

"Well – I'm uh – part of a group."

"What kind of group?" Cho frowned. He really couldn't picture Jane involved in any group activities. He wasn't exactly a team player.

"A – support group", he answered quickly. "For parents who've lost a child."

Cho just nodded, not letting on that he was surprised. "Good for you. So what's this about the cold case?"

"The daughter of one of the women in the group was raped and murdered last year – Christina Scott. They never found the murderer and the mother asked me if I could look into it."

"Jane – you know that's not a good idea. We can't do those kind of favors for people."

"I know." He exhaled and then took a deep breath. "I wanted to say no, believe me. It's just – I told them my story", he peered down at his cup, twirling it around in his hands and avoiding looking at Cho. "It's hard to tell her to let go, to not waste her life obsessing about the murderer when they all know about me."

Kimball blinked a couple of times, not quite sure how to respond. "You told her you were with the FBI?"

"No", he shook his head. "I don't know how she found out – she must have looked it up. Anyway I said I'd look into it. If there's nothing I can do I'll tell her and let it go."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. But I warn you that if the cops don't have a lead the chances are you won't be able to find anything."

"I know."

"And what about Teresa?"

Jane grimaced and took another sip of tea. "I should tell her, I know. It's just that this whole thing bothers me, I don't know why. I would just rather her not be involved."

"She'll be royally pissed you know. She can handle it."

"Normally yes, but right now I'd rather her not have to."

"Right", Cho nodded, suddenly realizing what this was about. Even though Jane didn't want to deal with Teresa's pregnancy, he was obviously concerned about her. "Okay I'll look into it, but don't blame me if she finds out and kicks your ass from here to Cleveland."

"I won't and – thanks Cho. You're a good friend."

"Yes I am", he muttered as he walked away. "Why, I'm not quite sure."

It didn't take him long to get the file from the local police. Once he had it he waited until Teresa left her desk for a few moments and then headed to Jane's couch. "Here's the file. Interesting."

"You read it?" Jane sat up.

"Yeah."

"Find anything?"

"You take a look and tell me. I don't want to influence you." He turned and headed back to his desk.

Jane had just opened the file when he saw Lisbon heading towards her desk. Casually, very, very casually he set the file down beside the couch. He'd have to look at it later.

Once Teresa was settled back into work, he stood up and headed over to the cold case files. He grabbed the nearest one – the case of the murder of a gang leader – and slipped the Scott file inside of it. He hated that he was tricking Teresa, especially after he promised he wouldn't hide things to protect her. But in this case he felt he had to do it. There was something that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and there was no way – no way in hell – he was going to put her in danger.

He read the file from top to bottom a couple of times, wanting to find out anything and everything he could. It was true that the cops reported they had no leads, although they had interviewed a few different people, classified as potential witnesses. There was one, in particular, that stood out.

Jason Eckert was, at the time of the murder, a 20-year-old college student. His father was CEO of Trandel Inc., a multinational corporation that was into everything from oil and gas to shipping to high tech. Jason's father was a billionaire although his family roots were in Austin.

There was a picture of Jason in the file. He was young, handsome and probably charming, thought Jane. He was a member of the Zeta Psi fraternity, had played varsity football and was studying business. Probably being groomed to take over for Daddy.

Jane took an instant dislike to the young man, although there wasn't anything in the file that pointed to his guilt. Still, he wanted to interview Jason and see what he could read from him.

He stood up and sauntered over to Cho, trying to look casual. "Cho, I want to interview one of the witnesses. Would you come with me?"

"Eckert?"

Jane's eyebrows went up. "You too?"

"Didn't like him. Daddy's rich and he's a frat boy."

"Yes", Jane nodded. "Uh, would you mind making it look like you've asked me to accompany you?"

Cho stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. "Okay, but you're gonna be in trouble when she finds out."

Jane made his way back to his couch, Cho's words making him rethink what he was doing. Could he really risk her newfound trust in him over a feeling that he had? With a frustrated sigh he stood back up and walked over to Teresa's desk. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh – yes", she frowned, getting up and following him. Fortunately this time he took her into one of the small glass enclosed conference rooms, although even then a couple of people gave them knowing looks. "What is it?" she asked after he'd closed the door.

"Uh, I need to tell you something."

"Okay, what is it?"

"One of the women in my group asked me if I would check into her daughter's murder", he told her. "The police never found the man who did it."

"And she wants _you_ to investigate", she asked, the frown lines between her brows deepening.

"Yes. She knows I work for the FBI. I told her she should leave it -"

"_You_ told her that?"

"I know, I know. But – she wants justice."

"Do you think this is a good idea Jane?"

"No, probably not. Look, I just said I'd look into it. If I don't see something right away I'll tell her there's nothing we can do. If I _do_ find something I'll pass it on to the police."

"Do you want me to help?"

"No", he told her. At her look of surprise he quickly went on to explain. "Look, I just – this is a bad case – the rape and murder of a young girl and I don't want you involved. And before you get all defensive and tell me how tough you are – I _know_ Teresa. I know you can handle things. I know you're tough and smart and able to take care of yourself. It's just – I need you not to be involved in this one."

"But why not? It's just a cold case."

"Because – hell, because I have a bad feeling about it and you're pregnant with my child and I don't want anything bad to happen to you – or to the baby. Okay?" There, he'd admitted it to her. It had just about killed him, and he was pretty sure _she_ was going to kill him, but it didn't matter. He didn't want her involved in this one. He waited for her to tell him off.

She swallowed and then licked her lips, unable to say anything for a moment. Jane was looking at her as if he expected she was about to hit him, when what she really wanted to do was kiss him. Why hadn't he taken her to their supply closet? She couldn't do anything here and she so desperately wanted to. God she loved him.

"Okay", she finally said.

"Okay? Okay what?"

"Okay, I won't get involved. Will you take Cho?"

"Uh – yes. I asked him already and he said he'd help."

"Good. Keep him involved – and I'd tell Abbott too. If there is something off about this I sure as hell don't want _you_ getting hurt."

He stared at her as if he didn't quite know whom he was seeing. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"You're not mad at me?"

"_Mad _at you?" She walked to the door and put her hand on the handle. "After what you just said – I am as far from mad at you as I can be. You are _so_ going to get lucky tonight." With that she opened the door and returned to her desk, for once leaving Jane without anything to say.

"You tell her?" Cho asked later as he approached the couch where Jane was once again sitting.

"Yes."

Cho nodded. "Smart move. And she's okay with us handling this."

Jane lips moved, the smile spreading slowly on his face as he looked towards Lisbon, who was studiously avoiding him. "Oh yeah – she's fine with it."

"Okay – too much information. Let's go."

It took them a few hours but eventually they found Jason at a bar with a bunch of his frat brothers. The young men looked as if they'd all had a few too many beers, and the young women with them were attractive but obviously immature college girls.

"Fond memories?" he said to Cho, who was looking at the group with an expression of disdain on his face.

"No. I always hated frat boys."

"But not the girls?"

"That's why I hated the frat boys – because they were the ones that got the attention of the girls."

"Right", Jane grinned. "Come on, let's go talk to little Eckert junior." The two men approached the group of semi-rowdy college kids. "Jason Eckert?" Cho called out. The group became quiet after a couple of minutes. Finally one young guy- who they instantly recognized – stepped forward. "I'm Jason. What can I do for the two of you?"

"FBI", Cho held up his identification. "We have a few questions we'd like to ask you."

"Really? FBI? Wow", he turned to the two girls hanging on his arms. "Cool. I'm being taken away by the FBI. Call my dad if I'm not back in twenty minutes."

"Sure", right arm girl giggled. Jason pulled away from both women.

"Okay, let's go", he grinned at the agents.

Jane hadn't said much after they picked up Jason. Cho, of course, never said much of anything so the ride back to FBI headquarters was rather quiet.

"So, what do you want to ask me?" Jason looked back and forth between the two men who had brought him here. The Asian man hadn't said much, but at least he'd spoken. Jason didn't even know who the other man _was_. He'd sat silently in the car the whole way.

"Did you kill Christina Scott", Jane asked bluntly?

"Wh – _What?_ Where the hell do you get off asking me that?"

"You were named as a witness in her rape and death".

"Right, I was a _witness_! I was not a suspect – ever."

"So what did you witness?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you were listed as a witness and I wondered what it was you witnessed?

"Me? I didn't witness anything."

"No? That's strange. Either you witnessed something or you must have been a suspect. Are you a suspect?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? I was in the vicinity, that's all. I didn't see the girl and I don't know anything about her murder."

"You were in the vicinity? Why was that? It was a residential area and the only thing there was a playground and the middle school."

"So."

"So, why were you in the vicinity?"

"I don't know. What does it matter? I was just driving around I guess."

"You guess. You were all the way across town from where you live or go to school. You were by yourself – you were by yourself, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"So, you like to go on long drives through residential neighborhoods?"

"Sometimes. Look, I don't have to answer any more of your questions. I'm gonna call my Dad and tell him what jerks you have been and he's gonna call some friends and get you kicked off the FBI."

"Really?" Jane smiled. "So, little Jason is going to call his Daddy to come to his rescue. That's always what you do when you get into trouble, isn't it Jason. You call Daddy to save you or to come and clean up after you."

"What the _hell_!" Jason reared up from his seat, knocking it backwards. He tried to leap over the table at Jane, but fortunately Cho was there to stop him.

"Well that got a reaction", Jane said calmly, although he had moved back away from the table, out of Jason's reach.

"I'm leaving now, but you will hear from my Dad."

"Of course. Tell him we look forward to meeting him."

Once Jason had left, Patrick sat quietly, clearly thinking. At first Cho didn't speak, but as the silence wore on he had to ask. He didn't expect an answer, because it _was_ Jane, who usually didn't share anything. "So, what do you think?"

"Hmm. What do I think?" Jane asked, still staring off into the distance. He then sat up straight, took a deep breath and turned to Cho. "I think Jason Eckert is guilty of the rape and murder of Christina Scott."

Of course they didn't get anywhere with the police. There was deep-seated resentment of the FBI among the local cops, and the ones who'd been assigned the Scott case were furious that they were being questioned as if they hadn't done their jobs.

"There was no evidence linking Eckert to Christina Scott", Officer Pembroke answered sullenly. "His car had been spotted in the vicinity and we questioned him. There was no reason to hold him."

"Why was he in the vicinity", Cho asked?"

"Huh?"

"Why was he there? Did he have friends in the neighborhood?"

"I don't know", Pembroke grumbled.

"You don't know?" Kimball stared at him, his very lack of expression causing the officer to squirm.

"No – I mean, he was just driving around."

"And you didn't find that suspicious?"

"No, why should I?"

"Maybe because it's your job", Cho told him gently.

"Who the hell are you to tell me my job", Pembroke sat up and snarled. "I don't have to take this from you!"

"Actually, yes you do. Your chief has promised to cooperate fully with our investigation. So, let me ask you again. Why do you _think _Eckert was in the neighborhood?"

Pembroke shrugged. "I have no idea."

Jane was leaning up against the wall, watching the interview, but so far he hadn't said anything. At this he stood up straight and walked towards the table. "Did you look into Eckert – his background, etc.?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And what did you find?"

"That he was nothing but a college student."

Jane's eyebrows rose. "What about his father?"

"What about him?" Pembroke snarled.

"Did you happen to find out that he's one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in Austin?"

The officer shrugged.

"Oh, so you did know. Did you, by any chance _contact_ his father?" Jane leaned forward.

"No, why would I?" the Officer was looking very uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. "Eckert was an adult."

"I see. Then can you tell me why there are three phone calls from your cell phone to Randall Eckert's house?"

Pembroke was silent and, after a moment, lifted his eyes to Jane. "I want to speak with my union rep."

"That's your right", Cho nodded and stood up. "We'll inform your chief as to our investigation."

Pembroke stood as well, pushing his chair back violently "You don't know what the hell you're doing! You're messing with the wrong people." With that he turned and rushed from the room.

"By wrong people do you think he meant Eckert or the police?" Jane asked casually.

"Probably both."

It wasn't that much later before both of them were pulled into a tense-looking Abbott's office. "Have a seat gentlemen."

Jane nodded and sat, used to this kind of thing. Cho glanced over at him, obviously clearly used to it as well. This wasn't unusual as far as 'Jane' cases went.

"You heard from the Chief of Police telling us to back off?" Jane said casually.

Abbott let out a bark of laughter at that. "I gotta say Jane, that since you've been on board with us our solve rate has gone way up, but so have the number of people we've pissed off."

"That's what happens when you work with Jane", Cho informed him stoically.

"Any yes I did hear from the Chief. But not only did I get a call from him, I got a call from the Mayor's office as well, basically telling us to back off."

"And what did you say?" Jane asked, curious to know.

Abbott stared at him a moment, his lips pursed. "I told them both that they were attempting to interfere in a federal case and that if they weren't careful I'd slap them with obstruction charges."

Jane grinned and even Cho looked like a smile was about to happen.

"But I want you two to tell me that there's something in this case? Eckert is a powerful man and his next stop is going to be Washington. That may change whether or not we are able to continue to investigate. So, what do you have?"

Cho looked at Jane, throwing it to him.

"Uh, Jason Eckert did it", Jane informed his boss. "I have no doubt."

"But do you have proof?"

"Only that the investigating officer contacted Eckert senior when he found out that Jason was in the vicinity of the murder."

"And was any investigation done around Jason? Any forensics, checking out other witnesses, etc?"

"No. They dropped Jason like the proverbial potato."

Abbott nodded, looking pensive. "Okay. Let's do a canvass of the area, see if we can find anyone else that saw anything – especially that saw Jason. And ask Wylie to see if he can track down any kind of money trail. I expect that Daddy may have paid to keep everything quiet."

Cho nodded and stood to leave. Jane went to follow but was stopped by Abbott.

"A minute Jane."

Patrick turned around, regarding the other man with a small smile. "You're going to tell me to go carefully, to try and not insult Papa Eckert, to remember the reputation of the FBI?"

"No, I was actually going to ask how things are going? You had a bit of a rough patch and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

This time Patrick looked at him in some surprise. "Uh – I'm doing well, thanks."

Abbott regarded him for a few more seconds and then nodded. "Good, because this is a sensitive case and I need you in top form. And oh, if you _do_ insult Eckert or the Chief of Police or anyone else, try and keep the FBI out of it as much as possible."

"Will do", Patrick grinned. Turning on his heel he returned to his couch, surprised at how much he'd grown to like the man who was his boss.

The next few days were mostly the kind of investigation he hated and avoided, but that he knew was essential. The money was going to be key, but they realized it was a long-shot. Eckert Senior had to be smart to have gotten where he was and would have hidden the trail well.

By the time Jane's next support group came up he was no closer to finding any clues about Christina's murder. He hated having to tell Andrea that they had nothing, but also didn't want to give her any false hope. And the last thing he wanted was to become involved in some long-term quest for justice. He wanted to move on with his life, not get entangled in another search for a sadistic murder.


	17. Of Death and Dreams

_**There is a bit of blood in this one (only in a dream). If it bothers you beware.**_

"Noooo! Don't. NO!"

"_Jane! Wake up_. Jane." She finally had to reach over and grab his arms. "Wake up!"

His hair was matted down with sweat and he kept turning and groaning, caught in the throws of a nightmare. This had been the third time this week and Teresa wasn't sure what to do.

"You have to wake up Patrick", she said, more forcefully. "You're having a nightmare."

"Huh?" His eyes opened suddenly, and he looked as if he'd seen something terrible. It took him a moment before he was able to focus. "Teresa?" He sounded terrified, and before she'd had a chance to reply he'd grabbed her and pulled her to him, holding on to her so tightly she could barely breathe.

"Patrick, what is it?" She wrapped her arms around him, returning his fierce hug.

He shook his head, not answering but only holding on more tightly. She realized then that he was in no shape to respond, but simply continued to hold him until he calmed. Finally, after about twenty minutes she could feel him take a deep breath and his arms relaxed.

"I'm sorry", he said softly. "Don't know what happened."

"You had a nightmare."

"Yeah." He pulled away from her completely, and gave her a smile. She could tell it didn't reach his eyes and he was only pretending.

"Do you remember what it was about?" She had asked each time he'd woken up from the throws of one of the bad dreams but each time he'd claimed he couldn't remember anything. She was suspicious that he knew more than he was letting on and suspected he was keeping things from her in order to protect her.

He opened his mouth to tell her that no, he didn't remember, when he stopped. He needed some help to figure this out and who better than her? She knew him better than anyone had ever known him and might be able to help sort out some of the things he was seeing.

But he didn't know if he could let her in to the one nightmare that had haunted him for almost thirteen years. He hadn't had it in a while – and had hoped that it was gone for good. But it had returned this last week, even though it was beginning to change in its details. That frightened him and made him consider that maybe it was time to tell someone – to tell Teresa.

"I – it was all mixed up", he told her, sounding hesitant. "It started out the same as most of my dreams but then it changed and – it's confusing."

"Can you tell me about it? Maybe I can help sort it out."

"I – guess. I don't know." He pushed his fingers through his hair. "Maybe I'm just going crazy."

"You are _not_ going crazy. You've been under a lot of pressure lately and this is just your minds way of trying to deal with everything. Come on Jane, you can't go on like this. Talk to me and maybe we can get to the bottom of these nightmares."

He nodded, looking as if he was still trying to deal with the horrors of whatever he'd seen in his nightmare. It was at times like this that the tragedy that had shaped his life was the most evident. Usually he used his charm and innate gentleness to deflect people from even thinking about the scars he must bear.

"Come on, sit back." She piled pillows behind him and helped him move so that he was leaning up against the headboard. She then snuggled in beside him. "Okay, tell me whatever you can."

He nodded and took a breath. Just as he was about to speak he turned into her and put his arms around her. "I love you." He said softly. "And I don't know if I can do this."

"Yes you can. Just close your eyes and breathe. You're safe here and everything is just fine. It was only a dream – a nightmare. None of it is real." She spoke softly, hoping to lull him into a state of relaxation and make it easier for him to speak.

"You've been studying my technique Lisbon", he said quietly, his eyes closed.

She grinned. "Of course. Now relax." She continued to watch him as he sat there, just breathing. After a while she could see the tension begin to leave his body. At one point he searched with his hand until he found hers and grasped it gently. He gave a squeeze and then began to speak.

"It started the same as always", he said quietly. "I walked up the stairs in my house and found Red John's note. I always expect to open the door and see – the face, the blood. But instead, in my dream, Angela and Charlotte are still alive and he's there. He's wearing a mask and he's there with them. He's holding Charlotte and he's got his other arm wrapped around Angela, a knife at her neck."

Teresa was horrified – not just at the dream but at the calm way Patrick was telling it to her. It was very clear that this was a common scenario in his dreams and she wondered, perhaps for the thousandth time, how he was as sane as he was.

"He began taunting me. He asked me to take back what I said on TV, to admit I'm not a psychic and that I lied. I try to do it, but for some reason I can't move, I can't talk. No matter how hard I try I can't say anything." His voice begins to sound panicked so Teresa quickly reached over and strokes his face.

"It's okay", she says quietly. "It's just a dream. You're here, you're safe."

His hand comes up and gently touches hers, but he is obviously still caught up in the story. "I keep trying to speak but I can't. I know that if I do I can save them, that he'll let them go but – I just stand there. And then -" He stops and takes a deep breath. "And then he laughs at me and tells me it's too late. He tells me I clearly don't love them enough and then he – he takes his knife and – cuts her open."

Teresa whimpers, she can't help it and Jane pulls her tightly to him. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this."

"No – don't stop. I'm sorry – you need to keep going. Please."

After a moment he lets out a puff of air but then continues. "He let's her drop to the floor and I can see her blood running – it turns into a puddle on the floor that just grows and grows. I just stare at it, watching it grow and I want to scream but I still can't speak or move. Red John then asks me the same questions again. Oh God Teresa, he's going to kill my little girl and I can't stop him. No matter how hard I try I can't talk. Charlotte is crying, begging me to save her, to help her. She keeps saying Daddy, please, over and over and I still can't do anything. Then he takes the knife and – and just like her mother she dies, blood flowing all over the floor, mixing with Angela. Red John stands there and laughs."

"Oh God Jane –I'm so sorry, so very sorry." She holds him closely, feeling the tension, which has returned. She can also feel him shaking, although he's obviously trying to control it. She wonders how he has been able to go on over the years, and suddenly understands clearly his insomnia and the reason for his constant short naps at both the CBI and the FBI buildings. "Are you alright?" she asks, when it appears as if he is calmer.

He takes a few breaths but finally nods and then gives a watery chuckle. "I should be used to it by now. But Teresa, the last few nights the dream has changed and I don't' know what that means. For years it's been the same, with small variations, but now – now it's changed."

"Changed how?"

"Well, it's not Charlotte in some of them, at least not Charlotte at five years old. A couple of times it was the Charlotte I saw in my belladonna induced hallucination. He - killed her too", he said, and she wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. Even the hallucination was tainted by Red John.

"And a couple of times it was - it was Christina Scott." Jane stopped and glanced at the woman holding him so tightly.

Teresa blinked a couple of times, a frown of concentration on her face. "Well, you have been working on her case lately, so it's probably not surprising that she's gotten mixed up in your dream."

"But that has never happened before", he said, "and we've dealt with some pretty bad cases. And – that's not all."

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"In a couple of my dreams the scene – changes. It's not Red John holding her but someone else – and it's not in my bedroom. It takes place somewhere else but I don't know where. I see the man holding her but his face is in shadow. In one of the dreams I watch as he -" he closes his eyes and leans back, his face pale.

"What do you see?" she asked gently. She didn't really want to know but thought it might be better for him if he could talk about it.

"He pushes her down and – and I see her struggling and she screams. I think he raped her, although I couldn't see clearly. All I know is I just stand there and can't do a thing."

"Oh God – Jane. You need to stop this investigation. You can't go on like this."

"In the next dream I saw him kill her", he said, going on as if he hadn't even heard her. "She was screaming and he told her to 'shut up' but she wouldn't. That's when he took out a knife and he cut her throat. She stopped screaming."

"That's _enough_ Jane. You can't do this. Tell Abbott that you're off the case and someone else can look into it."

He turned to her, blinking as if he just realized she was there. "What?" he frowned. "No – no, I can't give up. We're so close to finding something, I saw him Teresa and I saw where he killed her. I just have to figure it out."

"Jane, it was a _dream_. It wasn't real. You know we need real evidence, not something that you imagined."

"But what if I saw something in the file or when talking to Eckert that – that made me dream these things?"

She didn't see how that could be, but recognized that there was no way she was going to change his mind. "You've found another obsession", she said heavily, seeing the signs return.

"What?" No – no Teresa. This isn't the same, I promise."

"Isn't it? You're going to keep going, keep looking for clues until you find who did this. What I want to know is why Jane? Why are you so determined? Is it Andrea?"

"Who? What? _Andrea_?" He looked totally confused, but then his expression changed. "You think I'm doing this because of Andrea Scott?" he asked, no inflection in his voice.

"Aren't you?"

He sighed. "No – it has nothing to do with her. No, that's not fair – I started this because no parent should suffer what she did and never get justice. But that's not why I need to finish this. It's – I don't know why, I wish I could figure it out. But I _promise_ you it isn't because of her."

"Look", he turned so that he was facing Teresa, "you know I love you right?" he asked.

Teresa nodded but didn't say anything. She knew he did – and yet couldn't help but feel a sense of disquiet about this whole thing. She had the distinct feeling that Andrea Scott had asked Jane for his help for reasons that went beyond his work with the FBI or even his history. He was an attractive man and she figured this was not going to be the last time women went after him. Suddenly she wondered if she should ask him to put his ring back on. At least that had kept some women away.

"Well then, you should know that I'm not interested in any other women. Teresa – you've brought me the happiness I never expected to have again, that I didn't think I _deserved_. I _love_ you and there's nothing in this world I want more than to wake up beside you every day. I told you on the plane, I can't imagine waking up and you're not there."

She smiled at that and leaned forward. "And did I tell you that I feel the same? Well, I do." She chuckled. "I think I may have to get you another ring just to keep those women away."

"Are you proposing?"

"What?" Her breath caught and she looked at him, her eyes huge in her face. It was only when she saw the laughter in his eyes that she realized he was teasing her. She almost laughed but then suddenly her expression grew serious. She could see him become worried at the change.

"I was just teasing", he told her hurriedly.

"Were you? You don't _want_ to get married."

"Uh – _what_?"

"Is it something you've thought about or does it frighten you?" she asked seriously. "I know you were teasing, but it's not something we've talked about and I think maybe we should. We didn't talk about children and look at what happened."

How the conversation had gone from his nightmares to marriage he didn't know. He rubbed his face, trying to get his head around it. "Uh – does it frighten me?" He thought for a moment. "No. What does frighten me is having another person that I love so much and that loves me in my life. I'm terrified that something will happen and I don't think I could survive that, not a second time."

"Then why are you with me?" she asked gently.

"Because losing you now scares me even more", he admitted. "Look – I expect I'll always have a measure of fear but the longer we're together the more I can deal with it. And It's not like I think about it all the time – just – sometimes, when something reminds me."

She nodded. "Like the nightmares?"

"Sort of – but it's okay as long as when I wake up you're here with me."

She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "I'll be with you", she told him.

"So – to answer your question again. No, marriage itself doesn't frighten me. In fact, I can't think of anything I'd like more than to wear your ring. How about you?"

"Me", she smiled and snuggled down with him. "Like I said, I feel the same way."

He grinned and pulled her to him. "So, when the time is right -?"

"Mmm hmm – although you'd better do it right and _not_ on a plane full of people."

"Hey, I was the one that already boarded a plane illegally to tell you I love you. This time it's your turn."

She laughed, but agreed, feeling happier than she'd ever remembered feeling. After that - well, that and a bit of passion, they agreed to leave off thinking or talking about the dream or the Scott case for the rest of the weekend. Teresa knew it still bothered him, but he was working hard to not let it become another obsession. She wished she knew what to do to help.

* * *

"_Teresa_", he called from the bedroom. It was the evening before his next group session.

"What?"

"Where did you put my box?" He stepped out of the room, looking too sexy for his own good.

"Huh?"

"My box – with Charlotte's things. I need something out of it."

"Oh – I put it in the spare room, in the closest. Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, I've got it, thanks."

She sat on the couch, wondering what he was doing. The day after he'd shown her the photo album, he'd asked if he could leave the box with her. Although his ostensible reason was the lack of space in his trailer, she knew that it had been an incredible show of trust. It also proved to her that he was planning to stick with her. She just wished that he would move himself over, not just his box, although after their discussion of the other morning she was hopeful that was coming.

He brought the box into the living room and sat down. He stared at it for a moment, still clearly affected by it. He sighed. "I have to take something of hers to the group tomorrow night", he explained. "We're each to bring a memento with us to share with the others."

"Do you know what you're going to take?" she asked gently, understanding how difficult this had to be for him.

"Mmm", he replied noncommittally. "Not really." He looked up at that. "Do you think it's terrible of me that I don't even have their picture or anything of theirs with me?" he asked seriously.

She bent her head as she considered the question. She knew by now that he wanted an honest answer. "No – I don't think you were ready for that", she said carefully. "I don't think you were ready to have those reminders around you. Now – maybe you are."

He nodded. "Maybe." He reached over and lifted the lid off the box. Again he looked down at the little paper heart, a smile on his face this time. He picked up the album and carefully opened it. After looking at a number of pictures he took out a small one – one of the last pictures of his daughter being held by his wife. It had been taken shortly before they were killed. Without a word he pulled out his wallet and placed it inside.

Next he took a deep breath and began to pull more things out of the box. A few times he stopped, overcome with emotion, but then he would resume. Finally he came to something which very obviously affected him deeply. Teresa could see the tears fill his eyes.

He reached in slowly and pulled out a fuzzy white rabbit – slightly worn, it had clearly been well-loved.

"Her cuddly", Teresa asked gently.

"Cuddy?" Jane smiled, although it didn't last. "I gave it to her when she was a baby and she carried it with her everywhere." He gently stroked the long ears. "I could never figure out why it wasn't with her when she died", he said softly. "She must have been so scared without him."

"Jane", she said gently, not sure what to say but knowing how painful this must be.

He looked up and gave her a soft smile. "Sorry. It's silly to even think that, I know. It's just – I've gone around these things so many times." He continued to look at the rabbit but then lifted his head and regarded her seriously. "Do you know what Kristina Frye once told me?"

She shook her head.

"She asked me if there was a question about that night that had always bothered me. And there was. There was something in particular I agonized about."

"What was it?"

"Kristina told me she'd talked to Angela", he went on, not directly answering her. "She told me that Angela had said to tell me that Charlotte slept through the whole thing, that she didn't wake up and wasn't afraid."

Teresa didn't say anything, not sure what Jane wanted or needed to hear. All she knew was that she wanted to cry – to cry for his loss, and to cry for the little girl who hadn't had a chance to grow up, to cry for the woman and child who had died so horribly.

"I've thought about what she said more times than you an imagine. I didn't believe that she was truly psychic, because I _don't_ believe there is such a thing – but – I wanted to."

She nodded, knowing what a terrible burden that must be. "I'm sorry", she told him, knowing how he must still suffer over that question - and over whether Kristina Frye could talk to the dead. "So – are you going to take the rabbit?" she asked, hoping to draw him back to the present.

"Mr. Nibbles?" he asked, grinning down at the rabbit, a happy memory in his eyes. "Yes, I'll take him."

* * *

He looked around the room and could see that everyone had brought something with them. People were holding onto their items, whether held in the open or in bags, as something precious.

"So tonight we're going to share a bit more about our children by bringing in a memento that reminds us of them. If you feel comfortable sharing that with us, or anything about it or your child, please do. If you don't want to share, as always, don't feel you have to. Now, does anyone want to begin?

It was again heart wrenching. For some reason, why Patrick didn't know, he had an especially difficult time with this exercise. After each person finished speaking they would pass the item around the room, so that each person could hold the memento and through it, get to know their child.

Touching the items had disturbed him, although in what way he couldn't say. He ended up holding them only long enough not to appear rude but by the time Andrea passed the dance shoes that were Christina's, he was ready to bolt.

He managed to take them, although he only held them long enough to not appear rude. He got such a strange feeling when he did, and he knew it was because of the case and because of his dream. He passed them to Marissa, who was sitting on his left, and tried to clear his mind.

Fortunately he got through the evening – although sharing about Charlotte's rabbit was even more difficult than he'd thought. He'd ended up in tears when he talked about it not being with her when she died. At the end, as everyone was leaving, he was given a number of hugs from some of the other parents. He didn't say much, but he was grateful. For the first time he could begin to tolerate and even accept the sympathy of others.

He stopped himself. No – the reason he could handle this was because it _wasn't_ sympathy – it was empathy. These people felt what he felt, suffered what he did and understood.

But what about Teresa, he asked himself? She hadn't been through this. No – but even if she couldn't understand what it was like to lose a child, she understood him – understood him, loved him and was there for him. He trusted her and not only could he tolerate her sympathy, he rejoiced in it.

"Thank you everyone", Carl said quietly. "As always, drive safely tonight. Next week we're going to discuss siblings and/or whether to have more children after a loss. Have a good week."

Jane stood up slowly, as always exhausted by the evening. He was thinking about Teresa, about how much he wanted and needed her right now. He was also thinking about next week and whether or not he could handle the discussion. And finally, he was thinking about how much he missed Charlotte.

"Patrick?"

"Huh?" He looked up, surprised to see that Andrea was watching him. "Oh sorry – I didn't see you there. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Have you found anything?" she asked, getting to the point quickly.

"Uh – not really", he frowned. "Did you not get my message?" He'd left her a voice message giving her a quick update the day before. "We're working every angle, but it takes time and you know I can't promise that we'll find anything."

"But you'll keep looking, right?"

"As long as we can", he assured her gently.

"You didn't give up until you found Red John", she reminded him.

"No", he sighed. "We're trying Andrea. I'll let you know if we find anything."

She had to be content with that although clearly she wasn't happy. He wondered if she really expected him to take on her daughter's murder the same way he'd taken on his.

* * *

"How did it go", Teresa was sitting on the couch, looking up at him carefully.

"Fine", he said, not elaborating. "I'm tired."

"I made you a nice cup of chamomile tea. Let me get it for you while you get ready for bed."

He smiled and nodded, thinking how nice it was to come home again to someone who loved him. He thought back briefly to the times Angela had met him after a busy day, a cup of his favorite tea in hand. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of memory and then let it go. His life was here, now, with Teresa – and it was time he thought only of her.

"Thank you", he said, leaning back on the headboard, taking a sip of tea. "Perfect."

She smiled and climbed up beside him. "I hope you know I only make tea for the man I love."

"Even more perfect then", he smiled. He took one more sip and then put the cup down on the night table. "Come here", he said, opening his arms. "Love me please."

"Of course."


	18. Of Moving In and Moving On

_**I realized that this story was starting to go in a direction I hadn't really intended. For that reason I am bringing the case file part of it to an early ending and getting back more to the relationship side. I hope it doesn't seem to rushed! I'm sorry for the shift - it's amazing how stories go in the direction they want.**_

_**Hope you enjoy and reviews are appreciated and needed.**_

Jane was gasping, his face sweaty and his legs tangled in the bedcovers.

"Jane, wake up. What's wrong?"

"Sorry", he gasped. "I'm sorry." He leaned over, and rested his head on her shoulder.

"It's okay", she rubbed his back. "It's just another nightmare. You'll be okay." She continued to stroke his back, until he finally calmed. "Do you want some tea?"

"No", he shook his head. "No, I'm okay. I have to get up." Throwing off the covers he got out of bed. "I have to call Cho", he said breathlessly. "I know where the weapon is."

"Jane, what are you talking about? You just had a nightmare. You need to sit down."

"No, I need to call Cho." He looked around until he found his cell phone. "I know you think I'm crazy, but I think – Hi Cho? It's me, Jane. Can you pick me up? I may have an idea where Jason Eckert threw away the knife he used to kill Christina."

"The _knife_?" Lisbon asked after he'd hung up. "How in the world could you know where it is?"

"It was in my dream and we need to check it out."

"Jane", she reached out. "Come on – how can you possibly have dreamed something like that."

"I don't _know_", he answered, sounding frantic. "I must have seen something, heard something. All I know is I dreamed it."

"What if that's all it is, a dream?"

"Then we'll have taken a drive for nothing. I'm sorry Teresa, I know you think this is insane but – I have to check it out."

"Okay, but I'm coming." She kicked her legs over the side of the bed.

"No, this isn't your case." He told her obstinately.

"I don't care. I'm coming and you can't stop me."

"Teresa!" he said, looking angry. "You promised."

"Jane – I don't know what's going on, but I am _not_ letting you go on a wild goose chase without me."

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. Would it be so bad if she were to come? It wasn't as if they were going to see a killer. "Okay fine but if it is a goose chase you'll have gotten up for nothing".

"Jane, you've dragged me to things for years, and half the time that's what they've been. I'm used to it and anyway, you'll need me to get you out of trouble when all those agents, who had to get up at", she glanced at the bedside clock, "At 3:30 am are pissed when they don't find anything."

"Okay fine. Just no 'I told you so's", okay?"

"What's the point of going if I can't say that?" she grinned. He rolled his eyes but threw her a shirt. "Get dressed woman – we have to go."

Cho came by about twenty minutes later. "She comin'?" he asked nodding at Teresa.

"Yes, I'm coming. Do you have a problem with that?" Teresa was tired and cranky and not about to let anyone coddle her right now.

"Nope. In fact I'm glad you're here. You can deal with the Jane fall-out."

Jane rolled his eyes again. "What I have to put up with."

"You?" Cho raised his brows. Lisbon giggled.

"Come on", Jane urged, we've got to get going."

"Why? It's been there for almost two years. I doubt it's going to disappear in the next half hour.

Jane was practically bouncing by the time they got to the right road. It was a small, country road on the way to Somerville. Fortunately it was a bright, starry night and Jane could clearly. He watched carefully as they drove, checking out the side of the road and hoping he could spot something familiar.

"There", he pointed. "Right there."

Cho pulled over and stopped. Behind him two more cars pulled off the road. FBI agents piled out of the cars and stood waiting while Jane looked around the area. "I think this is it", he said.

"You _think_?" Cho regarded the area around him. "It looks exactly the same as the last twenty miles."

"No", Jane shook his head and started forward. "I'm sure this is it. He tossed it - he would have tossed it through there somewhere", he pointed to an area between two of the biggest trees."

"Okay", Kimball sighed. "All right everyone, we're going to start through here. Take your flashlights and get searching. We're looking for a murder weapon – some kind of blade or knife. It's evidence in brutal rape and murder of a young girl so look carefully."

Everyone started forward, well versed in this kind of hunt, and determined to find the weapon. There was nothing the agents hated more than the death of a child. They knew if they found something it could be a breakthrough.

"You gonna look?" Cho asked Jane and Lisbon.

Jane looked into the trees and had a sudden memory of being pushed under water after wandering into a dark forest. He wasn't so sure if he was up for this. Before he had a chance to say anything Lisbon spoke.

"Yes, of course. Jane, you can come with me."

He wondered if she knew how he was feeling. He followed her into the woods, acknowledging that she had always been the braver of the two of them.

He was finally beginning to get used to the dark when someone came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He screeched and practically jumped ten feet into the air. It was just one of the agents, handing him another flashlight.

"Thanks", he took the light, feeling rather embarrassed. He was pretty sure the agent was grinning, although it was hard to tell in the dark

"You okay?" Lisbon asked him in concern.

"Yeah – no – just some memories", he told her.

"Memories?"

"You know – having someone leap up at me in the middle of a dark forest and hold me under the water until I died."

"God – I didn't think of that. That was a terrible incident", she shuddered.

"Seeing my lifeless body?" he asked.

"Oh yeah – that too. No, I meant watching you come on to Grace and then everything in a skirt and reverting to your con man days. Creepy!" She shivered.

"You were just jealous", he told her, frowning.

"_Jealous_? No way. I would not let that man near me!"

"That man? That was me."

"No it wasn't", she said softly. "_This_ is you. And I like you the way you are now."

"So you 'd be jealous if I came on to – anything in a skirt - now?"

"Damn right", she told him.

"Hey you two, you gonna look for the weapon or just flirt with one another?" Cho was looking at them in disgust.

"Sorry", Lisbon grinned. "Come on Jane, duty calls.

He sighed but began to look carefully, keeping close to Lisbon.

"I found something", one of the agents called out. A short time later they'd moved to his spot. Lying in front of him was a bloody rag. Carefully, wearing his gloves, the agent moved the rag. Underneath it was a switchblade, the blade rusty with what looked like dried blood.

"How do we know it's the right weapon", someone asked.

"It is", Jane said softly, staring down at the knife. It looked just as it had in his dream."

The weapon was quickly taken to headquarters and signed into forensics. The FBI agents all went home, all but Teresa and Cho, with Jane in tow.

"So, how did you know it was there?" Cho asked him. They were seated in the small kitchen, cups of coffee, or in Jane's case tea, in hand.

"Patrick, tell him" When he didn't say anyting Teresa looked at him curiously. "He had a dream", she suddenly turned to Cho. "He figured it out in his dream."

"Really?" Cho looked suitably impressed.

Jane took a sip. "Kind of", he agreed, sounding thoroughly relaxed. "I was looking at a map of the area yesterday, trying to figure out if there was anything that would bring Jason Eckert to that neighborhood. Subconsciously I must have memorized the various routes out area where Christina was found."

Jane continued. "It so happens that the road where we found the weapon is the most direct route from Christina's house to Jason's father's house. It would have been natural for him to drive that way."

"But the knife and shirt?" Lisbon asked.

"Well, I figured he'd want to get rid of the evidence as quickly as possible. He went to Daddy for help, almost immediately, but he knew he had to dump the knife and shirt and what better place to do it."

"But how did you know where to look?" Cho asked, frowning. "There are miles of forest along that road. It could have been anywhere."

"Yes, but there very few places where it's possible to pull a car over. Most of that road is too narrow and stopping would be dangerous. I just saw all the clues and put it together in my dream."

Cho shook his head, but wasn't as shocked as others might be. He'd known Jane for too many years to be surprised by the things the man figured out. "I'm gonna head home and try and get at least a little sleep", he informed the others. "It'll take a while before we hear back from forensics."

"Sounds like a good idea." Teresa stood up and stretched. "You coming?" she said to Jane. At that she couldn't help but grin. How things had changed.

Jane seemed to catch on to what she was thinking and gave a smile of his own. "Of course my dear", he agreed. "Cho, see you later."

It was as they were curled up together, Jane almost asleep, that Teresa said something. "Jane, did you really look at a map yesterday?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"Were you looking at a map yesterday to figure out what direction Jason would go?"

At that he opened his eyes, and regarded Teresa – his eyes not so dull or tired looking as they should be. He sucked in a quiet breath. "No", he told her softly. "I thought about it, but I didn't get to it."

"So how did you know where to go?"

He was silent for a moment and then he shrugged. "Good guess? No – I must have seen or heard something that I can't remember, that's all."

"Oh." She rested her head on his chest and tried to convince herself that that's all it was. "It just seems strange", she murmured, now almost asleep herself.

Jane lay away for a long time, thinking about what had happened. It could have occurred that way – that was often the way his mind worked, in figuring out clues. There was a reasonable and logical explanation for how he'd found the murder weapon – he was sure of it. He just wasn't going to explore too closely.

Nor did he want to think about the part of the dream where he'd comforted Christina as she lay dying. She'd been afraid – and he'd told her everything would be fine and that she was safe. She'd believed him and she'd been at peace. In his dream he'd also felt her presence from after she'd died, and she'd assured him she was happy. He knew it wasn't real – that it was nothing more than a dream, than his imagination, but it still _felt_ real. And for the first time since Angela and Charlotte's deaths, he thought about telling someone he'd talked to their dead loved one. It wasn't true, but what would it hurt.

It would hurt him, he decided. He'd sworn off cheating people – trying to get people to believe something that wasn't true – and he wasn't going to start again, no matter how well-intentioned.

He refused to think about it anymore and he decided he definitely wasn't going to tell Andrea anything of the sort. It was much better that people accepted reality, that there was no afterlife and when people died, that was it. He knew that, believed it inherently so what was _wrong_ with him that he kept having these dreams? If he wasn't careful he'd begin to believe his own lies. He was very well aware that down that road lay the path to destruction.

Late the next afternoon they arrested Jason Eckert for the murder of Christina Scott. The knife not only had his fingerprints and her blood, it had also had some of his blood as well. The ME expected it was from a cut he could have gotten when killing the young girl. Wherever it was from, made little difference. The fact was they had strong evidence – and the confession of the killer.

It hadn't taken long for the young man to break down, although he spent all his time blaming Christina. "I couldn't get her to stop crying", he'd complained. "I told her and told her to shut up, but she wouldn't. So there was nothing else I could do. You see that don't you?" he'd asked Cho repeatedly. The enigmatic agent next had Jason implicating his own father.

"I called him after it happened", he explained. "Daddy had Charlie meet me – Charlie's his right hand man. He helped me clean everything up. Daddy said no one would find out. Boy was he wrong."

So they were able to arrest Randall Eckert and Charlie Johnson as accessories to murder. Abbott was the one to call Andrea Scott, although he made sure to tell her that Jane and the rest of the team had found the murderer.

Jane was grateful he didn't have to speak to the woman. It's not that he didn't like her, it was that he was afraid he'd say something to her about his dream. He didn't want to lie to her or give her false hopes. Christina was dead and that was that.

Later that evening he was curled up in bed, Teresa beside him, her warmth and softness soothing him like nothing else could. He allowed the peace and yes – the happiness – to wash over him. He wanted this forever.

"Teresa?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"Let's move in together."

"Uh – haven't we already?"

"Not officially, no."

She leaned up on her elbow and looked down at him, understanding that this was a momentous occasion. "You're sure?"

"Never more."

"And I assume you mean you'll move in here, not that I'll move to the Airstream?"

He grinned at that. "Well, you're welcome to if you want to."

"No, I think I'll pass. But does this mean I have to give up half of my closet and dresser?"

"Hmm – probably not. I don't have that many clothes. You could give me a quarter though, couldn't you?"

"I could, but this is my side of the bed."

They'd had a few arguments as to who got which side of the bed. Lisbon had won that argument although she was pretty sure that Jane didn't actually care.

"You can have whichever side of the bed you want", he'd told her softly, "as long as I always get the other side."

Of course that had put an end to all talking for quite a while.

"So – I would love to have you move in, as long as you're sure."

"I told you – I've never been more sure of anything. I love you and I want to be with you forever."

" What about the Airstream?"

"Well, it's good for trips. We can park it in the back and when you get mad at me I'll go back there."

"When I get mad at you you'd better stay here and make it up to me. Remember – no running away!"

"Okay", he gave a crooked grin and kissed her. "No running away."

"But then again, I could always use it when you're driving me crazy", she smirked.

"Uh uh. If I can't run away, then neither can you."

"Okay, so neither of us can run away. Oh – and you have to promise not to leave the toilet seat up."

"Since when have I ever done that?"

"True, but don't get lazy."

"Fine – but no using my razor."

"Deal", she told him with a yawn. "Now let's get to sleep. I'm tired.."

"Sure." He leaned down and kissed her, then he snuggled up behind her and put his arms around her, loving the feel of her soft body pressed against his. He was moving in and she was his forever.

"Mmm", he murmured. All of a sudden, life was wonderful. "Goodnight roomy."

He could tell that she smiled. "Goodnight Patrick."


	19. Of Comfort and Hope

Teresa kept glancing over at Jane. He was dozing on the couch although she suspected he wasn't really asleep. Since they'd arrested Jason Eckert he'd appeared tense, even though he'd claimed to be fine.

She shook her head slightly. They'd grown closer over the last few months but Jane was still an enigma to her at times. She knew and appreciated the fact that he was working really hard to be more open to her and she believed he was honest with her – at least most of the time. But still, there was much about himself that he held close to his chest. She suspected it was because he was afraid, although whether of others or himself she didn't know.

Her phone rang and she picked it up, still watching Jane in his usual position on his FBI couch.

"Hello?" She was silent as the person on the other end of the line spoke. "Oh, okay. Yes, send her up." She hung up the phone slowly.

"Jane?" she called. He responded instantly, which confirmed her suspicion he wasn't really sleeping.

"Yes?" He sat up and smiled. His face was looking tired and worn and again she worried.

"Someone's here to see you. She'll be up in a minute."

"To see me?" he frowned. He had no idea who that could be.

A minute later Andrea Scott walked onto the floor, escorted by the guard from downstairs. She looked around until she spotted Jane and spoke softly to her escort.

"Damn", Jane muttered softly. Still, he made his way over to the woman, not giving Teresa another glance. He had no idea that his action had worried her, so intent was he on the fact that Andrea had come to the FBI building to see him.

"Andrea?" He nodded to the guard, letting him know he had this. "Come on, let's go into the meeting room here." He escorted her into the small conference room.

Immediately he shut the door and turned to her he found himself being hugged. "Uh – Andrea?" He was terribly aware of the fact that the walls in the room were made of glass and everyone could see inside.

"Thank you", she whispered. "Thank you Patrick."

"Uh – you're welcome." He tried to move but her arms held on even tighter. After an uncomfortable moment he returned her hug, but eventually he was able to pull away. "And it wasn't just me Andrea. My whole team was on it."

"I know – but it was you who found him. I can't ever thank you enough." She looked as if she was going to hug him again so he subtly backed away and pulled out a chair.

"Here, why don't you have a seat? Can I get you a glass of water or cup of coffee or anything?"

"No, I just want you to tell me how you found him? And please tell me you have enough to keep him in jail?"

Jane let out a silent breath, wishing he could get Teresa in here to talk to the woman. He glanced quickly out towards her desk, but she had her head bowed and looked as if she were busy working. "I'm sure we have enough", he told her. "We have the weapon with finger prints and DNA. We also have the testimony of the cop and the money transfers he received. We also have records of Eckerts calls to his father from close to the murder scene on the night it happened and finally have Eckert's confession. And as a bonus we've arrested the father on conspiracy charges."

"Why did he kill her?" she asked softly, her voice laced with tears.

"I think he panicked", he said gently. "It was quick Andrea. She wouldn't have felt it."

"No", Andrea laughed bitterly, "but he raped her first and she would have felt that. She must have been terrified." She began to cry. "My poor baby, she died all alone, terrified. I should have been there. If only I'd been there to pick her up like I was supposed to. It's all my fault."

Jane closed his eyes, understanding her anguish and knowing there was little he could say to assuage her guilt. It was something he lived with every day and he knew it would become part of this woman's life, just like it had become part of his. But maybe there was something he _could_ say, something he could tell her that would make her feel a bit better. He thought back to the words Kristina Frye had told him and admitted that it had given him some comfort – which was ironic, really, as he still didn't believe in psychics.

"Andrea", he reached out and took her hand. He closed his eyes, not sure if he wanted to do this. "I – I told you, I'm not a psychic."

She looked at him and nodded, but he couldn't help but see the hope in her eyes. He wanted to curse, whether at himself or at fate he didn't know. "Well, I want you to believe that – I'm not. I can't speak to dead people and I don't really think anyone can but -"

"But what?" she asked, the hope growing.

"I just – I wanted you to know that I had a dream about Christina. It was the dream that helped me figure out who had killed her." He held up his hand when she went to speak. "Just – let me finish. I also dreamt that I was there – when she died."

"Oh - God", she whispered, her hand held over her mouth.

He wanted to stop, to leave but instead squeezed her hand. "I told her it would be okay, that she was safe and that soon she'd be happy again. She – smiled and nodded at me. She wasn't scared Andrea and she wasn't alone."

Andrea began to cry again and held his hand up to her mouth. She kissed the back of it, repeating thank you over and over again.

Jane wanted to pull his hand away, wanted to run from this room and this woman. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be offering her false hope. It was just a dream – it didn't mean anything. He hadn't been there when Christina died, alone, frightened, in pain. He was a liar.

There was a tap on the door and then it opened. "Teresa!" he said thankfully. He closed his eyes again, briefly and then looked up at her. "Come in." he said and she quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously catching his distress.

"Andrea", he pulled back his hand, gently. "This is Teresa Lisbon. She's an agent with the FBI and my partner." He left it at that, hoping that the woman caught the double meaning of the word partner. For once he wished Teresa actually looked pregnant. It would have solidified his connection to her.

"Oh – hello", Andrea sniffed, clearly not happy with the intrusion. "I was just here to see Patrick."

"I know Andrea", he said quickly, giving her a smile. "But Teresa and Agent Cho were the ones really instrumental in catching the killer. I'm just a consultant."

Again Lisbon gave him a look – one only he would understand. She was going to hold that one over him for a long time since he usually wasn't humble about taking credit for things.

"I'm sorry about your loss Mrs. Scott", Lisbon said. "I wanted to assure you that we're doing everything we can to ensure that Jason Eckert gets what he deserves."

Andrea nodded. "Thank you. I thought -"

"What is it?" Lisbon asked gently. Even though there was something about this woman that bothered her, she couldn't help but be sympathetic about what she had suffered.

"I thought I'd feel better, that I'd be able to find some peace once his killer was caught."

Jane moved restlessly in his chair. He glanced at Lisbon and frowned, knowing she understood that he was unable to say anything to the grieving mother across from him.

"You will at least get justice for your daughter", Lisbon told her. "I know that can't possibly take away the pain, but at least now you can grieve without wondering who did this and if he was going to get away with it."

"Yes." Andrea looked again at Jane. "Did you feel better? After you killed Red John?"

Jane breathed out and looked uncomfortable. "Andrea – I – it's like Agent Lisbon said – I got justice for my wife and daughter and that's what I was looking for. Did I feel better?" he again looked at the woman standing at his side, the one who'd been at his side for so many years. "It wasn't killing the murderer that made me feel - if not better, at least as if there was a reason to live again", he said softly. "It was having people in my life who cared for me who – loved me. It took time but it happened – is happening. That's what really made the difference. But I know – I couldn't have gotten to this point if I hadn't gotten justice first."

He felt Teresa's hand gently touch his arm. It wasn't obvious, but he knew what it meant. He wanted to reach back and pull her to him but couldn't do that now, here.

"She's your girlfriend, isn't she?" Andrea suddenly asked, looked between them. Maybe it had been more obvious than he'd thought.

"Yes, she is", Jane nodded.

"I – see." Andrea stood up slowly and held her hand out to Lisbon. "Thank you agent – for helping find my daughter's killer. And thank you again Patrick. What you did – what you said – I'll never forget. They both mean the world to me."

He nodded and watched as the grieving mother left. It was only after she was gone that he could feel himself start to crumble.

Without a word Teresa grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the conference room and down the hall until they'd reached the supply cupboard. She opened the door and pulled him inside.

"People are going to talk you know", he said, although his voice caught on the last word.

"Doesn't matter", she told him, drawing his head to her shoulder. "I'm here Patrick", was all she said. He nodded into her shoulder and stood there, holding her tightly for a long, long time.

"You okay?" she finally asked as he drew back a little.

He laughed, although it was a bit wobbly. "I think so."

"Care to share?" she asked, although she said it in a way that let him know he didn't have to. She could tell he was torn, but eventually he gave a small nod, his lips quirking up a tiny bit.

"I – think she was infatuated with me", he confessed in a rush.

She snorted. "You _think_? Of course she was. You're attractive, you have something in common with her and you're a kind, gentle soul. Of course she was infatuated with you. In fact I'd say she was in crazy in love with you."

He sighed. "Such a cross to bear!"

She slapped him on the arm for that, glad that things were finally getting back to normal. "Right! You have women falling over you all the time I bet."

He shrugged. "It's a curse."

"It's not a curse, it's the curls", she told him, tweaking one of them that had dropped onto his forehead. She immediately laughed when he turned a slight shade of pink. She'd never really seen him embarrassed before and it was charming. "Patrick Jane – you're _blushing_!"

"I am not!" he answered indignantly.

"Yes you are! You're embarrassed about your beautiful blond curls, admit it."

"Lisbon!" he whined. "I am not _embarrassed_ by my hair. It is what it is."

"And what it is is adorable and you _are_ embarrassed. Oh Grace is going to love this!"

"Don't you dare!"

She simply waggled her eyebrows at him and he finally gave up by pulling her to him again. He sighed into her hair. "I like your beautiful dark hair much better", he told her softly. "I can lose myself in it."

If that wasn't the most romantic thing ever! She groaned softly, wishing they were anywhere but at work – in a broom closet – but still at work. "So, what was really bothering you?"

Leave it to Teresa to try and ferret out the truth. She really was too good a detective. He breathed her in, hoping to calm down his heart and his conscience. "I told her about my dream", he said softly.

"Her – you mean Andrea?" She frowned. "About how you found Jason?"

"Yeah – but that wasn't all", he told her. "I didn't want to say anything before, but I also dreamed about Christina. I dreamt I was there when she died."

"Oh God Jane", she pulled back and looked at him. "You told her that?"

"Not about how she died – I just said that I was able to talk to Christina, to tell her she wasn't alone and not to be afraid. In my dream she smiled when I told her she was going to a happy place."

"And you told Andrea that?"

He nodded, looking agonized and guilty. "I – I told her it was a dream, that I wasn't a psychic, but I don't think she believed me. She thought that – it was real."

"And you're feeling guilty because she believes you are a psychic?"

"I guess."

"Jane, you told her it was a dream. You told her you weren't a psychic. Did you really dream that?"

"Yes", he nodded.

"Then what's the problem? You told her the truth – a truth that brought her some comfort, some peace. That's not a bad thing Patrick – it's a wonderful thing."

He closed his eyes, a lone tear squeezing out and down his face. "I don't want to give people false hope", he told her.

"Why not? What could it possibly hurt? And if she believes it, it isn't false. Hope isn't false or real – it just is. Jane, let this go. You really did do a good thing. You have to leave it there and not take this on."

Finally he nodded, although she knew she'd have to do more to convince him. Inside she wondered if his agony wasn't more because he was wondering himself whether or not it had only been a dream. She wasn't about to go there though. For now he needed comfort and assurance.

"So, we've probably started some more rumors", he said, taking in a deep breath.

"Mmm hmm. Probably more excitement than the FBI has had in years."

He grinned. "I aim to serve."

"No – you're _forced_ to serve and so you do everything in your power to make life uncomfortable for them", his dearest love told him, her eyes rolling.

"Now that's totally unfair", he told her. "I'd like to point out that _you_ are the one who dragged me in this closet. And since I've been with the FBI their case closed numbers have gone way up. So what if I make it a little more interesting then they're used to?"

She laughed and backed away from him completely, straightening her clothes as she did so. "True. I think Abbott enjoys it anyway."

"Yes, dear Abbott. I must say I have come to like him as well if not more than most of the people we've worked for over the years. And I never thought I'd say that."

"Hmm, I expect because you've almost met your match in him."

Jane reached over and opened the door. "The operative word there Lisbon is _almost_ – just almost."

No one looked up at them as they walked back into the bullpen and he wondered if their romance and his work had become too predictable. He'd have to think of ways to change that. "I need a nap", he announced to the room.

"Of course you do", Cho answered, a deadpan expression on his face. "Making out in storage closets takes a lot out of you."

Jane plunked himself down on his couch and grinned. It certainly did.


	20. Of Care and Courage

_**Okay - so two - I repeat TWO chapters in one day. I think I deserve brownie point - or preferably, lots and lot and lots of reviews. Please ... and than you!**_

"So, can I ask who here has other children?" Carl asked the assembled parents. Two of the couples, Joe and Tamika, Brian and Rachael put up their hands.

"Thank you", Carl smiled at them. "I have a daughter Amanda who is four and a baby boy who's eight months. His name is Ryan. Tonight we're going to talk about two different but similar subjects. First we'll talk about those who have other children now, and how you have dealt or are dealing with that. Then secondly we'll discuss the idea of having another child after a loss. Both are difficult subjects and there's no right or wrong and no judgment here. Everyone deals with things in a very different way, and I want everyone to feel free to express how they're feeling."

As had happened on each previous evening, everyone took turns talking. Things were different now, though, as others felt much freer about commenting on what someone said. Usually they were encouraging words – or sometimes questions if a subject hit close to home. Never, however, did anyone judge or blame, something that made it increasingly easy for the participants to be open and share.

Jane still found himself surprised that he was able to sit through these meetings and actually get something out of them. Sharing had never been his thing – even before the tragedy. When you're a con man, even a relatively benevolent one, you tend to keep things to yourself. Giving away details, and especially thoughts and feelings could get you in trouble – or lose you a mark.

In fact, looking back he realized that the only person he'd ever truly been honest with in those days had been Angela. He'd known her – or to be more accurate she'd known him, since he was a kid. And he could never pull anything over on her. He smiled softly in remembrance. It had been wonderful to have someone know you and love you like that. Although again he acknowledged that Angela tended to ignore his – baser – qualities.

He was amazed that now he had that again – someone who knew him inside and out. The ability to be open and honest, although difficult, was rather freeing, he realized. He no longer had to think about everything carefully, to make sure he always had his stories straight.

The wonderful thing too was that he felt something similar with this group, at least when it came to his loss. He knew he could trust these people with the deepest darkest part of him. And the fact that they didn't love him meant that he could share the knowledge without burdening him. Yes, it was freeing.

He tuned back into the conversation from the parents who had other children already. They spoke about how difficult it had been to go on and continue to care for another child or children when all they wanted to do was crawl in a hole and die. They talked about the joy they got from their living child and children and how lucky they felt to still have that in their lives. And they admitted their fear that something could happen to another child and how they thought that would destroy them.

That, of course, was the perfect segue into the discussion about subsequent children. He sat up straight, knowing that this was going to be difficult, but it was something he needed to deal with. It was why he'd come here in the first place.

"So, can I ask if there are those of you who are thinking of having another child in the near future?"

Stephanie put up her hand, followed a moment later by her husband Andrew. From the look on his face he wasn't so sure and Jane figured he had his hand up because it was something his wife wanted, not because it was something _he_ wanted.

After a moment of hesitation, Jane put up his hand. He got some surprised looks because he hadn't spoken to anyone about Teresa. He was pretty sure everyone thought he was still single – everyone but Andrea, who so far hadn't said anything.

"So, Stephanie, Andrew, let's start with you." For the next few minutes Stephanie spoke about the strong desire to have another baby.

"We had Matthew when I was still in college", she explained, "and we wanted to wait a few years before we had another one. Money was tight back then and I wanted to finish my degree. And then, by the time we were ready to try again, we discovered Matthew had cancer." She took a deep breath, finding it hard to continue. "I really want to get pregnant again, but Andrew doesn't want to."

"Andrew?"

"I can't go through another loss", he said softly. "I – Matthew was my buddy and I just – I don't think I can do it again. If something happened to him I'd die. We're happy the way we are. There are other things we can do. I mean, maybe we can get a dog or something."

"A _dog_?" His wife turned to him in anger. "You're saying we should replace a child with a _dog_?"

"I'm not saying replace. We don't _have_ a child. I'm just saying I don't want to chance losing another child. I can't _do_ that Stephanie." His eyes were filled with tears and his hands were clasped together, his knuckles white.

Jane glanced down and saw that he was doing the same thing. He was also having trouble taking a full breath of air.

"Your reaction is very normal Andrew", Carl said gently, trying to bring the emotional level down a notch. "It _is_ frightening to contemplate another child and a lot of parents struggle with that. Some even choose not to risk it. The issue here, of course, is that one of you wants another child, and – at least now – the other doesn't." Carl turned at that moment to Jane. "And what about you Patrick? You put up your hand to say that you were also thinking of another child. Can you talk about that? And then we'll discuss some of the different things that go into making the decision and the fears that people have."

Jane cleared his throat, not really wanting to say anything. He knew he could pass, it was always okay if you didn't want to speak. But this wasn't the time to be a coward. This was the time to lay himself open and deal with this.

"I'm not thinking about it", he told them. "It's already happening. My girlfriend Teresa is pregnant."

There was clearly some surprise in the room, although no one commented on the fact that he was in a relationship.

"How far along?" Marissa asked softly.

"Uh – I don't know", he admitted, feeling a sense of shame. "Not very. I mean, she's not showing yet."

"And how do you feel about it?" Carl asked.

Jane bit his lip, thinking about how he wanted to answer. Eventually he decided to just tell the truth. "Terrified. Angry. Resentful."

"Go on", Carl told him. Everyone in the room was quiet, their eyes focused squarely on him. Andrew had given a single glance at his wife and then turned his attention back to Patrick.

"It was an accident. We hadn't talked about it." He smiled slightly. "I've known her for years but the relationship is new. I guess I'd just assumed that kids wouldn't even come up. We're both older and she's always been focused on her career. So I was – surprised – when I found out."

"And angry?"

"Yes, and angry", he admitted, shifting his legs. "I know she didn't do it on purpose. I trust her." He stopped, knowing that the people in the room had know idea what that meant, that trusting her was in itself a huge step for him. "But I still couldn't help but be angry. I felt – feel – like she should have known, that maybe she was careless because she really wanted a child."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Carl pushed him, without sounding at all judgmental.

"No, not really", he said carefully. "At least not most of the time. When I'm panicking then it comes up."

"Have you talked this over with her."

"A bit. She knows how I feel and that I didn't – don't want kids but other than that we haven't really talked. "I – couldn't."

"I see. And you still feel like you don't want children?"

"No – yes, I mean, I like kids – love them – I just – can't have one of my own. I didn't protect my daughter and I can't – can't risk another one."

"So it comes down to fear, is that it."

Jane swallowed and nodded. "Yes. I told you, I'm terrified."

Carl nodded. "That's a very common reaction", he told the room. "Andrew, I expect you're feeling the same."

"And so am I" Marissa said, "although I don't even have a boyfriend or husband, so it's not really an issue."

"Yes it is", Carl told her. "Even if now isn't the time there may come a day when you do have to deal with the reality of it. It's a good thing to start thinking about it now."

"But I've told Andrew that once the baby comes he'll be happy and won't worry so much", Stephanie cried. "Isn't that true?"

"How can you know that?" her husband asked. "I think it'll be even worse. How can I look at a child of ours and not think that cancer is waiting around the corner to take him or her away from us."

"The chances of that are slender", she told him. "The doctor said it's not genetic – it was just a fluke."

Andrew laughed. "Do you really think that helps make me feel better? What if it's something else?What if our kid walks out in the street and gets hit by a car?" He stopped and looked at Carl guiltily, suddenly remembering how his son died. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay", Carl shook his head. "It's true, it could happen. I agree with Stephanie that the chances aren't great, but they aren't impossible. Something bad _could_ happen to your child. There's no way of knowing."

"I worry about my younger kids", Tamika told everyone. "My daughter Rachel is ten and my son Ben is eight. I think about it all the time, but then I look at them and think how much joy they bring me and I'm glad I have them. I don't think you ever _don't_ worry as a parent, regardless of whether you've lost a child. It's just – now we're even more careful. And now we take more time with our kids. We don't want to ever regret not spending enough time with them, or not loving them enough."

"Yeah, I feel the same", Brian told them all. "We have twins – they're six. I'm actually worried that they'll kill each _other_." Everyone laughed. "But they're the joy of our life and I wouldn't ever give them up." He stopped and looked at his wife. "I'd even consider having another one if Rachael agreed."

Again there was silence. It was Andrea who broke it. "Patrick – I understand that you're afraid but – what are the chances of another serial killer coming after your child? I would be more nervous if I were one of the others who lost a child because of an accident or cancer."

He felt his lungs constrict, which was probably a good thing, because he really wanted to yell at her. Fortunately Carl stepped in, which kept him from having to respond.

"Andrea, I don't think it's really about the reason our children died, or even about the odds of it happening again. Just losing a child and then the thought of being responsible for another one is naturally frightening. Let's not compare situations."

That was the harshest and most direct Carl ever got, but Jane wanted to hug the man.

"You said your baby is only eight months old", Jane asked, after an awkward pause. "I assume that it was after you lost Daniel that you decided to have another child?"

"Yes, Daniel's been gone for four years. It took us that long to agree on having another child." He laughed softly. "Actually it was me that took that long. I think my wife would have gotten pregnant immediately if she could. She agreed to be patient as long as I didn't say a definite no. Finally I was able to deal with it and she got pregnant right away."

"Were you worried?"

"Terrified", he smiled, echoing Jane's word. "Still am. But is it worth it? Absolutely. Every time I walk in the door I thank God that my wife had the courage I lacked. I hold him and watch him grin or let him slobber all over me and I think that I'm the luckiest man in the world. I'll never forget Daniel – he'll always have a place in my heart. But I've discovered that the heart is big enough to love as many children as you want."

Jane nodded, trying to let the man's words reach _his_ heart. He knew he had to start rethinking the idea of a child, but even that was frightening. He looked over at Andrew, to see the man dealing with much the same thoughts. At least he had some time. Jane only had a few months.

The conversation continued. Carl as well as some of the parents with other children talked about coping techniques. They told about how they were more careful, while trying not to be paranoid. But they all repeated how much their children meant to them.

"I'm sorry." Everyone was leaving and Andrea approached him, putting her hand on his arm. "I didn't mean it to come out the way it did", she explained. "I was actually trying to be helpful."

Jane gave her a small smile and nodded. "I understand. It's okay."

"No – it's not. I know how I would feel if someone said something like that. It was stupid", she smiled, "but well-intentioned. Look, I know you have a girlfriend, but I really would like to buy you a drink, just to say thank you. I also wondered if you could tell me any more – you know, about your dream?"

"Andrea -"

"Please", she reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Please Patrick?"

"Patrick!" Carl came up to him and slapped him gently on the back. "Oh, excuse me Andrea – I didn't mean to interrupt but I just need to talk to Patrick for a moment if that's okay?"

"Uh – sure." She stepped back and watched as Carl drew him away and out into the hallway.

Jane regarded him, wondering what this was about.

"I'm sorry", Carl told him. "You looked like you could use some rescuing. If I'm wrong I apologize and will leave you to it."

"No – I mean, thank you. I don't want to hurt her but -"

"I know, I understand. I've seen it happen once or twice when there are people here without spouses. Don't worry – it's just her way of coping and she'll be fine."

Jane thanked him. "Uh – could you say goodbye to Andrea for me. Tell her -" he wasn't sure what to say.

"I'll tell her you had to run – that your girlfriend was expecting you."

"Great – thanks Carl."

He took longer than normal on the way home. He had a lot to think about from tonight's discussion. One of the things that he'd realized was that ignoring the problem – he snorted – not problem, ignoring the _baby_ wasn't making it any easier for him to deal with. If he wanted this relationship to last he was going to have to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father. And he was going to have to start now.

Once resolved to do that – although how he wasn't quite sure – his thoughts moved to Andrea. She was still interested in him, that much was obvious. And he was going to have to deal with that or it was going to get worse. He hated the thought because he knew she was grasping at anything to bring her comfort. He just couldn't be that 'anything'. With a sigh he pulled into his driveway and stopped the car.

"Hey", she said as he walked into the house. She was sitting on the couch, reading. He knew that it was her way of waiting for him, of being concerned, without appearing to be hovering. It allowed him to tell her about his evening or not. If he didn't want to talk – and sometimes he didn't – she'd continue reading. If he did she'd put her book down.

Tonight he didn't give her the chance. Instead he walked over to her and took the book from her. Lying it down on the coffee table he sat beside her and put his arm around her. "Hi."

"Hi." She turned and kissed him back. "How did it go?"

"Good", he nodded. "Fine." He sat there simply holding her and breathing her in. He began to gently stroke her shoulder. "Teresa?"

"Mmm hmm?" She was resting with her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting closed.

"When are you due?"

"Hmm?"

He smiled. "Your due date? When is it?"

Her head popped up at that, practically hitting him in the chin. "My due date?"

"Yes?"

"Uh – oh, it's April 14th."

"April 14th? Spring baby." He pushed her head back on his shoulder and rested his on top of it.

"Yes." There was a pause. "Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Well, I should know, don't you think? I mean, I don't want to make plans to be away or anything."

"No, no I guess not." She relaxed against him. "Where would you go anyway?"

"I don't know", he muttered, sounding as if he was falling asleep. "Just want to make sure."

"Okay." She smiled as she watched him doze off. She cuddled into him and relaxed. Maybe things would work out after all.

Over the next few weeks Jane made attempts to acknowledge her pregnancy more than he'd done in the beginning. He would actually refer to it on the odd – very odd – occasion. He also started to become stricter about her workload and finally made her go in and tell Abbott.

"He's going to take me off field duty", she complained.

"Good", was all he said as he turned the page on his book.

She knew she had to tell her boss because she was showing and soon it would be obvious to everyone. For now she'd been able to hide it, but she was small and it wouldn't be long before the bump was obvious.

So she told Abbott the next day – and to say he was surprised was an understatement. "Jane? A father?" He shook his head. "This will be good to see."

She looked a little sad at that and her eyes moved to where he was seated on his couch. "He doesn't want it", she said softly.

"The child?" Abbott sounded horrified.

"Oh – no, I didn't mean that – at least not quite the way it sounded. I meant he doesn't want fatherhood. He's frightened."

Abbott nodded. "Understandable. He'll come around."

"He's trying. Uh Sir – could I ask you not to say anything? I'll tell the others, I just don't want anyone bringing it up to him. He really can't deal with it right now."

Her boss sighed, but agreed, although secretly he thought the best thing would be for Jane to start acknowledging it and have people talk about it. This avoidance thing had to make it loom larger than it actually was.

Lisbon told everyone in the office, but also asked that they not say anything to Jane, explaining that it brought up memories of his daughter. People were sympathetic and agreed, although she suspected that there would come a time when someone slipped.

Jane knew instantly that everyone knew. No one said anything of course, but it was written all over people's faces – and their bodies. He wanted to roll his eyes at how bad people were at keeping secrets.

Cho – of course – refused to let him off the hook. At least once a day he told Jane he was an idiot and to get over himself. As harsh as it sounded, it was rather good for Jane. He knew it was true and so he tried.

* * *

Teresa was frightened and wondered if she should call and ask Grace if she could come out and visit. She didn't have a mother or sisters to help her through this and Kim had never had kids. Besides that, Kim had announced she was leaving to take a job in DC. She'd miss her, but right now her attention was focused on her pregnancy.

She'd opted not to have amniocentesis, since her Catholic upbringing wouldn't let her contemplate an abortion if there was something wrong with the baby. She had done a blood test to see if there was any likelihood of a problem, but even though it had come back negative, her doctor had explained it had only limited value.

But it was time for her eighteen-week ultrasound and she was frightened. Because of her age there was an increased chance of problems with the baby. She didn't know what she would do if they found something, and hated the fact that she would be alone. Somehow Cho – as much as he was a good friend – just wasn't the right person to bring along.

She could ask Abbott's wife, although she didn't know her that well. She was a nice lady, but not really a friend. No – she'd have to see if Grace could come out. She was frightened and needed some support.

Jane knew something was wrong but hadn't been able to get anything out of Teresa. She was looking good – great even. Pregnancy suited her and he found himself checking out her belly at odd moments during the day. He thought back briefly to Angela's pregnancy and felt a huge wash of guilt. He'd been there with her, every step of the way. He remembered going through he unknown with her – the frightening and the fun. They talked names and baby things and what it would be like to be parents. He'd done none of that with Teresa, and it wasn't right.

He'd been trying to come to terms with it, he honestly had. Every time he'd tried to take a big step – to actually talk to her about something – he'd freeze. He hated himself and was feeling guiltier every day.

And now there was something wrong – and she wasn't saying anything because of his selfishness and stupidity and fear. Enough was enough Jane! Tonight he'd talk to her.

After dinner they often sat and listened to music together or read – sometimes they watched TV. Many nights however they simply talked. Often it was about their day – and little things. Sometimes they got into more serious issues as companionship and the day to day of life began to strengthen their trust.

Tonight he pulled her to him and went into the bedroom. He smiled and had her lie down on the bed.

"Looking for some fun?" she grinned.

He knelt on the bed beside her and leaned forward for a kiss. "Maybe later. Right now I just want to hold you and to talk."

"Really?" her eyebrows lifted. "Sounds nice."

She cuddled into him and was pleased – and surprised – when his hand circled her belly and he began to stroke it. Usually he avoided touching her there. "Jane", she said after a minute.

"Yeah?"

"Would you be okay if I invited Grace for a visit?"

"Just Grace?"

"We could invite Rigsby too. It's just – it would be nice if she could come."

"Sure", he told her. "Any particular reason?"

He felt her grow tense, although to be fair she immediately forced herself to relax. "No – not really", she told him.

He almost called her on it – he could always tell when she was lying. But this time he was sure there was a reason and one he needed to discover. "What is it?" he asked, gently turning her over onto her back. "Is something wrong?"

"No", she denied quickly, although her eyes filling with tears gave the lie to _that_ one.

"Teresa please – tell me. What is it?"

"Jane – I can't – it's okay, really. Grace can help me. You don't need to worry."

Of course he was instantly terrified. "Oh God – there isn't something wrong with the baby is there?" He could feel himself start to panic. What if there was something wrong? Oh God – what if she lost it? He didn't think he could bear that. "Teresa?" he asked, the panic clear in his voice.

She knew instantly that she had frightened him and felt terrible. "Nothing's wrong Jane – I'm fine."

"But why – what is it? Please tell me."

She sighed and covered her eyes with her forearm. "I just – I'm a little scared, that's all."

"Scared? By why? What is it? Did they find something?"

"No, no. Jane – it's okay. I just have to go in for my eighteen week ultrasound and I'm a little worried. Because I'm older there are more chances that something could be wrong. No", she touched him reassuringly, "they haven't found anything. I'm just nervous about it, that's all."

"Oh." He felt his heart-rate slow down, but now he was thinking about the fact that she was older and there was more likelihood of problems. For some reason, in all his imaginings and fears that was one thing he hadn't considered. He'd thought about something happening to the baby _after_ it was born, not that it would be born with a problem.

He realized at that moment that he'd been quiet for a long time and that Teresa was looking both tense and sad. Okay – now was the moment he had to stand up and be a man – not just a man, but a father. "And that's why you wanted Grace here? So she could go with you?"

Teresa nodded. "I didn't want to bother you."

And that made him furious – not at her, but at himself. He wanted to curse and scream, but instead took a deep breath. "You – wouldn't take me instead, would you?"

To say she was shocked was an understatement. "Jane?" She sat up and looked at him. "This – do you know what you're asking?"

"Uh, to go to the ultrasound with you?"

"Yes but – can you handle it? I mean, you'll get to see the baby and everything."

"I know. I've been to an ultrasound before – many times in fact." He glanced down for a moment and then back at Teresa. "I went with Angela. I saw Charlotte for the first time then and it was – amazing. I'd like to see our child too."

She swallowed and took a breath – and promptly dissolved into tears.

Jane smiled and took her into his arms, knowing that the tears were ones of relief and happiness – with probably a dose of anger towards him. But that was okay – he deserved it.

After she calmed down he got a cloth and wiped her face. "When is it?"

"Next Tuesday at 10:00. I asked for the time off already."

"Okay. I'll speak to Abbott and tell him I'm going with you. You're sure you're okay with me rather than Grace."

"Silly man! Of course. Although you'll have to take me out for a nice dinner afterward."

"Your wish is my command oh pregnant one."

"Jane?" she asked later, when they were curled up under the covers.

"Mmm hmm", he said as he again traced her tummy.

"How come – why -"

"Am I coming with you?"

"Yeah."

"Because I love you and I realized I've been a coward and a fool. It's still hard, I won't pretend otherwise, but I also know that avoiding it isn't making this easier. So, from now on I'm going to do better. I want to be with you for your appointments and – I want you be able to tell me things, okay?"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kissed her ear. "Now, for that fun you were mentioning?"


	21. Of Rules and Regulations

"Agent Lisbon, I'd like to introduce you to a new member of your team. This is Agent Michelle Vega and she'll be working with you and Agent Cho." Abbott had escorted the newest FBI agent in order to introduce her around the office.

Lisbon stood up and smiled at the young agent. "Welcome. It's nice to have you on board."

"Thank you", Vega said, sounding rather formal.

Teresa noted that, although Vega was both young and attractive, she didn't seem very warm or friendly. She wondered how she'd fit into their team and was regretting that Kim had decided to leave.

"If there's anything I can help you with, just let me know", Teresa told her. "I know it's always tough starting a new job."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Uh – okay then", Lisbon smiled, unsure what more to say. She looked at Abbott feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Thank you Teresa. Where's Jane?" He looked over towards the couch, but their consultant was missing.

"He's just gone to make himself a cup of tea", she explained. Abbott nodded and ushered Vega over to meet some of the other agents. After the two of them were gone she glanced over at Cho.

"She's young."

"Yes. And attractive."

"You think so?"

"Of course", he nodded. "But young."

Lisbon sighed and rubbed her ever-growing belly. For some reason seeing Agent Vega depressed her and made her feel old. She tried to remember back to when she had been as young and idealistic. She shook her head. She'd been so determined, so sure of what was right and wrong in those days. And then she'd met Jane.

Speaking of the devil – "Hey", she smiled at him.

"Hi yourself. Who was that with Abbott?"

"New agent", Cho told him, without looking up. "She's taking Kim's place."

"Oh", he frowned briefly and then shrugged. He'd gotten to rather like Kim, although he'd never quite forgiven her for the trick she'd played on him. He knew that was rather hypocritical, as he'd done his fair of tricks on all his teammates – but he had let down his guard with her and had been hurt.

Still, he'd gotten used to her and didn't particularly look forward to someone new. He was a man of habit and order and hated when things disturbed that. He glanced over at Teresa then, and smiled. He wasn't going to let it worry him though. He had much better things to think about.

After finishing his tea he lay back down on his couch and closed his eyes. He was trying not to think about tomorrow and the ultrasound so instead put his mind to their latest case.

A local banker, by the name of Ralph Martins had been found dead in his car in the parking lot behind his branch office. He'd been shot in the chest and had only been discovered when his wife called and reported that he hadn't come home from work. There were no witnesses and seemingly no motive.

Jane had looked at the file but had, as yet, to talk to any of the man's co-workers or his wife. He was planning to head out after lunch with Cho, but for now concentrated on the facts that they knew so far.

"Your desk is right here Agent Vega." Abbott had returned with the young woman after taking her on a tour of the building. "If you have any questions Agent Cho or Lisbon can help you. Welcome to the FBI."

"Thank you", she said, her expression unchanging. She sat down at the desk and put her purse in her drawer. She then took the box that had been left there and began to unpack it.

Teresa got the distinct impression the woman didn't want to be disturbed so left her to her unpacking. She really hoped Vega would loosen up or working with her wasn't going to be fun.

After she was finished putting away her few items, Michelle looked up. It was only then that she noticed the man asleep on the couch. She frowned, wondering why they would let a civilian inside the FBI to sleep. She walked up to Lisbon's desk.

"Uh – Agent Lisbon?"

"Please, call me Teresa", she smiled. "What can I do for you Agent?"

"I'm just wondering", she asked softly. "Why is that man sleeping over there?"

"That – oh, you mean Jane?"

"Jane? That's a funny name for a man."

Teresa laughed "That's his last name. His first name is Patrick and he's our consultant. Didn't Abbott mention him?"

"Yes, I guess so. I just – don't understand why he's allowed to sleep on the job." She sounded both surprised and disgusted.

Teresa's eyebrows went up. Well this was going to be fun. "Uh, that's how he works", she explained. "He may look like he's sleeping, but he actually does some of his best work like that."

One of Vega's eyebrows went up and she looked incredulously at the man on the couch. "Really? Well, I have to say I'm surprised that it's allowed. It's not very – professional, is it?"

"No", Lisbon cocked her head slightly, finding the woman in front of her to be both arrogant and stuck-up. "I guess different people have different ideas of what's professional. Jane solves more cases than anyone here so I guess that gives him a bit of leeway."

"Really? He solves them by sleeping?"

"Sometimes", Teresa chuckled. "Didn't you get files on everyone before you started?"

"Yes, but I didn't read them. I didn't want to be influenced by what's in a paper file. I'm more interested in seeing how people work and in their results."

"Yes, well Jane gets results."

Vega nodded, still looking like she'd swallowed a bunch of lemons.

Teresa sighed. "Would you like to meet him?"

"Who – Jane?"

"That is who we're talking about."

"I guess so", Vega nodded. She waited for Lisbon to stand up and then glanced in surprise at her stomach. "You're pregnant?"

"Really" Lisbon said, sounding surprised? At the other woman's uncomfortable look she relented. "Yes I am."

"Is this your first?"

"Yup. Come on, let me introduce you to Jane." She walked over and gently kicked the side of the couch.

Jane's eyes opened slowly, to see the woman he loved standing over him. He started to smile when he noticed she was wearing her 'it's business look'. Normally he wouldn't care, but this time he decided to be good so instead sat up. It was then he noticed the very attractive woman beside her. "Who's this?" he smiled.

"This is Agent Michelle Vega. She's the newest member of our team", Teresa told him.

Jane instantly stood up. Continuing to smile he held out his hand. "Welcome Michelle. It's nice to meet you."

She gave him a nod and took his hand. "Mr. Jane."

"Oh, you can just call me Jane – or Patrick, whichever you prefer."

"I prefer Mr. Jane", she answered. "I understand you're a consultant with the FBI?"

"Yes", he nodded.

"I see. And what do you consult about?"

Jane thought a moment. "Oh, just about anything. Isn't that right Lisbon?"

"Yes", she nodded and then turned to Vega. "He helps with all of our cases in a variety of ways."

"I see. Where did you get your training?"

"Training?" Patrick asked with a quick glance at Teresa. "Uh – no training." He grinned. "I'm just a natural."

"A natural what?" Vega said, her eyebrows pushed up as high as they could go.

"Crime solver", he answered, although he'd wanted to say something completely ridiculous

"I see. Well, it's nice to meet you. I've never met anyone who – slept – as they worked."

"Oh, the team works me pretty hard", he confessed. "Lisbon here especially, so I need to rest."

Agent Vega pursed her lips but nodded again. "I'm sure you do." With that she gave a small smile and headed back to her desk. Lisbon gave him a look which clearly said 'oh boy, this is going to be fun'. Jane just grinned and took his seat back on the couch.

Quite a few times over the next couple of hours the newest agent glanced up and watched the man on the couch. She was shocked and horrified that the FBI would allow someone like that to work for them. She hoped he wasn't around all the time.

Just before they were to leave to interview Ralph Martin's wife, Cho was called into an interrogation of a witness on a case he was working. Jane was going to go on his own when Abbott came out of his office. "Jane, take Agent Vega with you. She might as well get going immediately."

Patrick nodded and then turned to look at Michelle Vega. "Come on then, let's go see Martins wife."

Vega grabbed her purse and followed Jane out of the office. She was irritated, unsure how to handle the situation. _She_ was the agent, and he was the consultant, but she was brand new. She thought maybe she should take charge and begin as she felt they should continue.

"So, I'll take the lead on this one. I read over the case file carefully and it doesn't look like the wife is a suspect but she may know more than she realizes"

Jane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You'll take lead?" he asked nicely.

"Yes. I understand that you consult so if I feel I need you to do something I'll ask, okay?"

"Okay", he smiled. He immediately got in the passenger side of the car, assuming – correctly – that she'd want to take control and drive.

They got to the victim's home and knocked on the front door. After a slight pause they could hear a lock turning and the door was opened by a woman in her early 40's. The woman's eyes were red and her face puffy, obviously from crying. "Yes? Can I help you?"

Michelle took a step closer to the door. "I'm Agent Vega and this is Patrick Jane. We're with the FBI and we'd like to ask you some questions about your husband's murder."

"Oh – okay", the woman opened the door wider and let the agents in. "I'm sorry", she indicated the room. "I haven't – I couldn't – it's messy. Please sit down. Can I offer you anything?"

"No/Some Tea would be nice", both Vega and Jane spoke at the same moment. The agent glared at Jane, who wasn't looking at her but was smiling at Mrs. Martins.

"Oh – yes, of course. Just a minute and I'll get it for you."

"Don't bother", Jane told her kindly. "Just point me to your kitchen and I'll get it while Agent Vega asks you those questions. Would you like some tea Mrs. Martins."

"Thank you – I guess – yes, that would be nice."

Jane nodded and smiled again. He then headed towards the kitchen.

Vega followed him with her eyes, shocked at his presumption and wondering again how they let anyone so unprofessional and _untrained_ work for the FBI. "I'm sorry for your loss Mrs. Martins", she told the other woman perfunctorily. "Now, can you tell me if your husband had any enemies, anyone who would want to kill him?"

Jane returned a few minutes later, two cups of tea in his hand. "There you go", he put a cup down in front of the grieving widow. "I added a little milk and sugar, just the way you like it."

"Thank you", Emily Martins gave a shaky smile at the rather strange FBI agent. She took a sip of tea and looked at him in surprise. "It _is _just the way I like it."

Jane nodded, giving her his sweetest smile. He then sat down and proceeded to drink his tea, all the while watching as Agent Vega continued with the interview.

"Jane, do you have any questions for Mrs. Martins?" It was very obvious, from her tone of voice, that Vega was asking only out of courtesy and that she assumed that he would have nothing more to say.

"Yes", he answered. "Mrs. Martins, when did your husband tell you he was leaving you?"

"What?" Emily looked at him in shock, almost dropping her teacup. "He wasn't leaving me. Why would you say that?"

"Jane!" Vega glared at him. "There is no evidence to suggest that Mr. Martins was leaving. "I'm sorry Mrs. Martins -"

"He was moving out, wasn't he?" Jane interrupted. "His things are gone or packed up and there are no pictures of the two of you anywhere. I assume you took them down after he told you he was leaving you."

"No!" she said, putting the cup down before she dropped it. "Why do you keep saying that? Ralph wasn't leaving me."

"He was having an affair, wasn't he, and told you he was leaving because he was in love."

"_No_! That's not true. I didn't know he was having an affair – I mean, I didn't know because he _wasn't _having an affair. He loved me."

"Jane, stop this", Michelle hissed at him. She stood up. "I'm sorry Mrs. Martins. As soon as we have more information we'll let you know. Come on Jane, we're going."

Jane ignored her. "There wasn't another woman was there?" he asked softly. "You could have lived with it if he'd had an affair with another woman."

"No", Emily cried. "I couldn't – wouldn't. He wasn't having an affair with another woman. Please stop."

"_Jane_!"

"He was having an affair with a man, wasn't he?" Jane have her a gentle and sympathetic smile. "And you couldn't live with that. It was bad enough that he was leaving, but to leave with a man – you saw that as shaming who you were. That's why you killed him, wasn't it? So no one would find out and they'd view you as the tragic widow."

She stood up quickly, glaring at him. "Why are you doing this? Why are you saying these things?"

"Because they're true", he answered gently. "He was having an affair with Brent Jacobsen, his assistant branch manager. He was planning to leave you for Brent and instead you killed him."

"No", Emily bowed her head in her hands and began to cry. "I loved him. I gave him the best years of my life and he was going to give that up for some perverted relationship. I couldn't let that happen. He forced me to it. It was his fault."

"You shot him?" Jane asked, still pushing her. He didn't once look over at Vega.

"_Yes_, yes I shot him", Emily admitted. "He deserved it and this way I'll inherit everything."

Jane stood up at that, placing his cup on the coffee table. "Since you're the lead on this case Agent Vega, I'll leave it to you", Jane said as he walked towards the door. "Good luck with everything Mrs. Martins."

"How did he know", the not-so-grieving widow asked after he was gone. "How did he know my husband was having an affair with another man?"

"Uh – he's just really smart", Michelle choked out. In fact she had no idea how Jane had done it, but she planned to talk to him and find out.

She called for back-up and soon Emily Vega was heading to jail, charged in the shooting death of her husband. When Michelle got back to the car it was to find Jane snoozing in the passenger seat.

"How did you do that?" she asked bluntly after getting in the car.

"Hmm?" he asked drowsily.

"How did you do that? How did you know it was her?"

He sighed and sat up. "According to the file, Brent Jacobsen was way more upset over Martins' death than a simple co-worker should be. In fact, the officer who filled out the report said that Jacobsen was totally devastated. Then there was the fact that he and Martins went away on a lot of business trips together. Finally, it was clear that Martins was moving out. There were none of his things in either the bedroom or the bathroom."

"You _looked_?"

"Yes."

"But we didn't have a search warrant. You can't go wandering around people's houses."

He looked at her with an innocent expression. "Yes I can. I simply had to use the bathroom. And her bedroom door was open."

Vega clenched her teeth and didn't say anything for quite a few minutes. She finally spoke. "I don't know how you really do what you do, but next time I expect you to follow the rules. They're there for a purpose and you can't just do anything you like. You've obviously been given too much free reign here."

Patrick smiled and closed his eyes. He was asleep by the time they got back to the FBI.

Agent Vega knocked on Abbott's door. "Can I speak with you a moment Sir?"

Abbott looked up, little expression on his face, although those that knew him well recognized the gleam of humor in his eyes. "Certainly Agent Vega, come in."

He waited until she was seated and then leaned forward, his hands clasped. "So – I assume this is about Jane?"

"How – how did you know?"

He smiled. "Oh, he usually has quite an effect on people the first time they work with him. Did he solve the case yet?"

"Uh – yes, he did. But Sir – it was totally unprofessional. He snooped around the woman's house without permission."

"Oh, permission is something that Jane rarely, if ever asks for."

Michelle frowned. "But – why do you keep him on? I assume he creates a lot of problems for the FBI."

"He does", Abbott agreed, "but he also solves cases – faster than anyone I've ever seen. The man may be irritating and you're right, he certainly isn't professional, but he's brilliant. You'll get used to him after a while. Just don't let him trick you and try not to let him get on your nerves. You'll be okay, I promise."

"But, how do the others handle him?"

"The others? Well, Cho and Lisbon have worked with him for years. They know him. Teresa, of course, can usually keep him from getting into too much trouble, although she'll be on restricted duty for a while which is unfortunate. Cho is pretty good at controlling him too – so you shouldn't have too much trouble."

"I'm sorry Sir, I still don't understand. I don't even know what he _does_ other than sleep on the couch and insult people."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it", Abbott chuckled. He then stood up slowly. "I know it's a lot to take in Agent Vega. But the fact is, Jane isn't going anywhere. He's one of the best assets we have, so, you're going to have to deal with it – with him. If you have any real problems, talk to Teresa. She's dealt with much worse from him."

"Thank you Sir", she said as she stood up. "I'll – try." She turned around and walked to the door. "I'm kind of surprised he hadn't gotten himself into real trouble yet."

Abbott laughed. "Oh, you have no idea. He _has_, which is why he's working for us. You should read his file Agent. It's very informative."

She nodded and thanked him again. Maybe she would read his file, although she didn't really want to spend that much time even _thinking_ about him. For some reason Patrick Jane really irritated her. She was a believer in rules and regulations, proper procedure and processes. She was positive that Jane didn't know about any of the above. She sighed and sat down in her chair. She wondered how difficult it would be to get rid of him?

"I don't think your new agent likes me", Patrick told her on the way home that evening.

"Who? Agent Vega?" Teresa glanced at him.

"Uh huh. She made it pretty clear. She didn't like the fact that I went to the bathroom."

"What?" Teresa frowned, confused. "She didn't like that you went to the _bathroom_?"

"Well, she thought I was snooping through Mrs. Martins' house."

"And were you?"

He smiled.

"Jane", she sighed. "It was her first day. Couldn't you have backed off a bit?"

"Well, I planned to, but she was pretty obnoxious – no look", he suddenly protested. "She was rude and arrogant before I had a chance to so much as open my mouth."

"Yeah", Lisbon sighed. "I kind of agree with you. I don't think I'm looking forward to working with her."

"Oh she'll be okay in a few weeks, I promise."

"How do you know that?"

He just smiled again. "I'll convince her."

Teresa shook her head and chuckled. Leave it to Jane.

He went to bed that night thinking about Michelle Vega. He hoped the woman would loosen up because if she didn't it wasn't going to be that pleasant to work with her. Oh well, he had other more important things to think about. Tomorrow morning was the ultrasound and he was terrified.

"Teresa?" he whispered, hoping she was still awake.

"Mmm hmm", she murmured.

"I love you."

"Luv – ya – too", she said, practically asleep.

"Teresa?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you – hold me?"

That woke her up and she stared into his face. "Are you okay?" She knew that tomorrow loomed in front of him and he was terrified of the ultrasound. He wiggled over and put his arms around her. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I want to", he said softly. "I just need you to hold me."

"Of course." She pulled him tighter to her and then began to stroke his head. "Relax and go to sleep."

"Mmm hmm." Within moments he was sound asleep. Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.


	22. Of Life and Redemption

_**Thank you and a big hug to all my reviewers. You inspire me.**_

He didn't sleep at all that night. He wanted to get up and pace, or have a cup of tea, or go to a bar and get drunk, but he couldn't do any of those things. No, for if he did it would worry Teresa and that's the last thing he wanted to do.

Instead he lay there, breathing slowly and deeply so that she would think he was asleep. He even had to force himself from turning over, afraid that he would disturb her.

And she needed her sleep. She was worried too, but he'd managed to calm her down – he'd deny using any kind of hypnosis or mental suggestion if she asked – but he didn't want her up or tossing or turning.

He just wished he could hypnotize himself. He chuckled silently. Yeah, and if he'd been able to do that he would have done it years ago, instead of fighting constant battles with insomnia and nightmares.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he was going to go with Teresa and look at the ultrasound of his child, the child he didn't want, was terrified to have.

And even thinking that brought along with it waves upon waves of guilt. What kind of man was he that he didn't want his own child? He was a failure, that's who, a man who had failed horribly as a husband and as a father.

He took a breath and forced himself to face the truth. It's not that he didn't want a child, _this_ child, it's that he couldn't bear the thought of loving it, and then losing it. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that were that to happen he couldn't go on.

He had managed to survive the years since Charlotte and Angela's deaths, through the shear, single-minded pursuit of their murderer. Eventually his drive for vengeance had been appeased and he had been able to slowly build his way back to life, to living and – to love.

But this – this could derail him, could send him spiraling down into a blackness from which he would never return.

And that would destroy Teresa, for she too had been hurt and had taken a risk in loving him, in accepting him. For her to lose him now would send her – not into death – but into loneliness and solitude.

But it was his _child_, that voice inside his head said. A small being that he'd created together with Teresa, the tangible proof of their love. How could he _not_ want that young, innocent life? How could he not remember the joy he had experienced when Charlotte had been placed in his arms, when he had watched her grow, when she had put her arms around him and told him she loved him. How could he not want that again?

The thoughts went round and round in his mind, all night long. When the alarm clock finally went off he sighed in relief. He would no longer be alone with his thoughts, with the nightmares – or with the dreams.

"Hi", Lisbon said groggily, stretching like a sleepy cat lying in the sun. "Sleep well?" she turned on her side, her hand under her cheek, and gave him her drowsy morning smile.

He returned the smile and leaned forward and kissed her nose. "Fine miss sleepy head. How about you?"

"Surprisingly well", she told him. "I was afraid I wouldn't sleep at all."

"It's having me in your bed", he informed her. "I'm better than chamomile tea or sleeping pills."

"Mmm, well you'd better stay in my bed from now on, because you owe me lots and lots of nights of sleep after all those that you kept me awake."

"Really? You stayed awake thinking about me?" he asked, sounding inordinately pleased with himself.

"I stayed awake thinking of ways of killing you", she informed him. She took a deep breath. "I guess I'd better shower", she told him, not really wanting to get out of bed.

"You want me to help?" he grinned.

"You stay here", she pushed herself up and then kissed him. "I'm afraid that if I let you in the shower with me we'll _never_ get out of here."

He pouted all the while she got up and as she headed to the bathroom. Once there he allowed his face to relax and pushed his head into the pillow. He was so tired – both from not sleeping, as well as from having to pretend he was okay. He lifted his hand out from under the covers and cursed softly. It was shaking.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Teresa was standing in front of the open refrigerator. She reached in and pulled out the eggs and milk. "Eggs, right?"

"No thanks. I'll just have some tea." He was standing at the sink filling up the tea kettle, and trying to get his traitorous body under control. He had to stop trembling or she was going to know.

"What? No eggs?"

"Huh? Oh, no, that's okay. I think I ate too much last night."

She frowned and looked at him closely, only then noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the closed, wounded look in his eyes – a look she hadn't seen since before the death of Red John. She immediately put the eggs and milk down and walked over to him. Throwing her arms around him she held him to her. "I'm sorry", she whispered. "You really don't have to do this."

He held her tightly, just allowing himself to feel her and smell her and be with her. "Yes, I do. I _want_ to Teresa. I'll be fine, really."

"You're not. You're not fine. And you didn't sleep, did you?"

He sighed, and although it was silent, she could feel it deeply in her own chest. "No, but it's okay. I'm used to it."

"No, it's not okay. Afterward we're coming home and taking a nap. And you _will_ have something to eat if I have to feed you myself."

"Mmm, sounds like fun." He tried to smile and lighten things up. He gave her another hug and then kissed her. "Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. You just look after yourself, okay?"

"I'll look after both of us. I love you Patrick, and whatever happens, we'll be alright."

He managed to eat a few bites of egg even though they tasted like lumpy glue. It wasn't the eggs, but his own nerves, which were causing his taste buds to short out. After breakfast he quickly donned a suit – his armor – and stood waiting for Teresa.

They didn't say much on the way to the clinic, but every once in a while Jane would reach out with his hand and cover hers. He would only rest it there for a moment and then put it back on the steering wheel. It was endearing, as Teresa knew he both wanted to hold her hand, but also be a cautious driver.

She rather suspected that he was going to become more and more protective over time. His fears would have to come out somehow and that was probably the healthiest way for him to deal with them. She knew it might begin to drive her crazy. She also knew she would do everything possible to put up with it and, maybe even learn to enjoy it. Because he was going to need to feel like he had some control, that he could do something to protect her and the baby. And she was going to let him.

"We're here", he said softly, staring at the cement wall in front of them. She hadn't even noticed him driving into the parking garage or stopping the car. Suddenly she was the one who was nervous. She closed her eyes and said a brief prayer. Everything was going to be all right.

The nurse showed her back into the changing room, pointing out where she could put her things. "When you're ready I'll take you into the examination room and get you settled. Then your husband can come in."

"He's not -". She stopped. "Thank you", she smiled at the nurse. He might not be her husband in the law's eyes, but in every other way that mattered he was. And the fact was, she was going to make sure that soon he _would_ be her husband, legal as well as otherwise.

"Hi", he said, walking into the exam room.

She had a moment's flashback, hearing the same hesitant tone in his voice that he'd had that day at the airport. He sounded frightened and hopeful all at the same time and – it was all centered on her.

"Hi", she smiled and held out her hand. "Come here."

"You okay?" He walked over to the exam table and took her hand.

"I'm fine", she answered, "although I could do without the paper sheets."

He grinned. "Better them than nothing."

"Hello", the technician walked into the room after a quick knock on the door, a smile on her face. "My name is Alicia and I'll be doing your ultrasound today. You're", she looked at the chart in her hand, "Teresa Lisbon?"

"That's right."

"And this is?"

"Uh – my boyfriend, Patrick Jane. And the baby's father."

"Hi Patrick, it's nice to meet you. I'm glad you could be here. Now, I'm just going to get everything set up and then I'll explain what we'll be doing."

For the next few moments the room was silent as Alicia got everything ready. Patrick held on to Teresa's hand tightly, the only outward sign of his nervousness.

"There, all ready. Now Teresa, I'm going to put some of this lubricating jelly on your tummy. It's nice and warm so shouldn't bother you. You may feel a bit of pressure, but it won't hurt at all."

"Okay", she smiled. She took a deep breath and squeezed Patrick's hand.

"So, here we go." A minute later and Teresa's belly was nicely slicked with jelly. Alicia brought the wand down on her stomach and began to slowly move it around.

"It'll just take a moment for us to find the little one", she said, looking carefully at the screen. "Before we start, did you want to know the baby's sex? I can't promise that we'll be able to see – it'll depend on the angle and whether or not the baby wants us to know."

They looked at one another, both realizing, at the same time, that this wasn't something they'd discussed. "Uh, I'm not sure", Jane said.

"Why don't we have her not tell us, but later on we can ask the doctor if we decide we want to know." She looked at the technician. "If you can see, will you write it down on the chart?"

"Yes, definitely. And you can ask your doctor to tell you. I'll just add a note that says you don't know so he'll only tell you if you ask."

There were a few more moments of Alicia searching and then a smile broke out on her face. "There we go. There's your baby."

Both parents were staring at the screen, mesmerized by what they were seeing. "Oh my God", Teresa whispered. "That's our baby."

The world had come to a stop for Jane. He couldn't breath, he couldn't feel, he could barely see. But what he did see was his child. _His child_! He continued to stare and was able to see the slight movements of the baby. Oh God – this was his child. How could he not have wanted it? He felt the tears spring to his eyes. A moment later they were trailing down his face.

How could he possibly be this lucky, he suddenly wondered. After all he had done, how is it that he could be looking at this little miracle in front of him. He wanted to reach out and touch it – and tell it how much he loved it. But he couldn't. He had a long time to wait until that could happen.

But, for the first time, he _wanted_ it to happen. He wanted to meet this child, to hold it, to love it. He wanted this child with a passion and longing he'd rarely if ever. Only his desire for Teresa matched the ache and the yearning he felt now.

"Jane?"

He vaguely heard his voice being called, but it didn't really intrude on him. His eyes never wavered from the screen but continued to watch his child, his hope, his redemption.

"Patrick?"

The sound finally penetrated and he looked down. Teresa was looking at him, tears also falling across her cheeks. Suddenly he grew frightened. What had he missed? Was something wrong? "Teresa?" he asked, terrified.

"No, no – everything's fine", she laughed, realizing his terror. "I'm just – it's our baby Patrick. Do you see it?"

He allowed a small smile to break out – which quickly turned into a big one – which quickly became a huge grin. "It's beautiful", he said. He leaned over and kissed her, full on the lips. "Thank you."

"So, I just want to make sure I got everything I needed", Alicia smiled. "The radiologist will take a look at these right away and then your doctor will be in to see you shortly. I'm not really allowed to say anything, but I wouldn't worry", she smiled. "Teresa, you can get cleaned up and then get dressed. It won't be long."

They both thanked the technician and then Patrick helped her clean up and get her pants back on. They hadn't really said any more to one another.

Jane was too shocked, too happy too – he didn't know what. The feelings were rushing through him, feelings he hadn't experienced in a long, long time – and it was taking a lot out of him. Suddenly he wanted to sit down.

"Here", Teresa grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto the exam table, beside her. "Relax and breathe."

He must be in worse shape than he thought. He bowed his head and took a number of slow, steady breaths. "I'm okay", he told her, after a moment.

"You sure? You looked like you were going to faint?"

He gave a soft, and wobbly laugh and finally lifted his head. "You think this is bad, just wait until the actual birth."

"Patrick?" she frowned and tried to smile at the same time. "How – is everything okay?"

His hand reached out and he cupped her face. "Everything is wonderful." He slowly smiled, his eyes lighting up. "We're going to have a baby Teresa."

The tears began again in earnest, but this time she didn't even notice. Instead a small sound – a sob and a sigh of relief all in one escaped from her mouth. She sagged against him, her head resting on his heart.

His arms encircled her and he held her close. The fear, although still there, was beginning to lessen. He could feel the ice around his heart – the terror – begin to break, to crack and to crumble. He gently kissed the top of her head. "Thank you", he said again. "I love you."

The door opened and their doctor walked in. She gave the couple on the cot a warm smile. "Hi, everything okay?"

Two tear-streaked but happy looking faces looked up at her. "Yes, we're just – it was emotional", Teresa hiccupped, as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Yes, it's a wonderful thing to see your baby for the first time. Well, I'm going to cut right to the chase as I'm sure you're both nervous." Dr. Eggers knew the father's history – Teresa had explained everything to her – and understood the fears of both parents. She sat down in the chair facing the couple.

"Everything looks great", she said directly. "The size and the development are perfect for eighteen weeks." She glanced at her chart. "It says that we were right on the due date – April 14th." She raised her head. "Alicia said you don't want to know the sex right now?"

They glanced at one another. "No", Teresa finally said. "But we may change our mind and ask you. I must admit I'm dying of curiosity."

Dr. Eggers grinned. "It's hard, I know, But I won't say anything – and if you ask me, I'll triple check before I tell you. Now, even though everything looks wonderful, why don't I take you through some of the results." She spent the next few moments showing them still pictures of their baby and explaining what the tests revealed.

The doctor went to pull out another picture when she suddenly stopped. "Oops, not that one", she told them. She put it back quickly.

"Doctor?" Teresa asked, getting worried.

Dr. Eggers laughed. "Sorry – I'm afraid that one might have given it away." When that was received by a blank stare from the soon-to-be-mother she laughed again. "The sex. It might have given away the sex."

"Patrick, should we ask?" Lisbon looked at him with a pained expression. "I'm just so curious."

"I think we should wait", he told her. He couldn't say anything, not here, not now, but he had terribly mixed feelings about the sex of the baby and needed to think about it for a while. Up until now just the _thought_ of a child had terrified him, he hadn't even thought about what having a little girl – or not having a little girl – would do to him.

Teresa seemed to understand and nodded. "I guess we'll think about it some more", she said. "But you're sure everything is okay?"

"As far as we can tell, everything looks great. You'll remember I told you that you can't always see everything on an ultrasound, but I wouldn't worry. Everything looks good and I'm sure your baby will be just fine."

Dr. Eggers went on to give further instructions and advice. Her doctor's visits would start to become more frequent now. "Get an adequate amount of rest, and eat properly. Exercise is good, just don't overdo it and try to keep the stress levels down. You're healthy Teresa, and we want to keep you that way."

As they were about to leave the clinic Alicia came up to them, an envelope in her hand. "I thought you might like some pictures", she smiled.

They drove in silence after they left the clinic. Teresa was feeling both happy and relieved. She glanced over at Patrick, looked as if he was deep in thought.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

"Hmm?" He glanced at her and smiled. "Yes."

"This wasn't too hard on you?"

He glanced at her again and then, without saying anything, turned into a small strip mall parking lot. He parked the car and turned off the engine. He then turned in his seat until he was facing her. "Hard on me? No", he smiled. "Well, at first it was a little nerve-wracking."

"A _little_?" she teased.

"Meh", he said shrugging. After a moment though he grew serious. "Thank you Teresa." He reached out and gently, softly touched her cheek. His mouth trembled, but he continued. "I feel -"

"What?" she whispered when he had trouble continuing.

He shook his head, not sure how to go on. "When you didn't go to DC, when you told me you loved me and wanted to be with me, I felt like I could begin to live again. For the first time in years I felt truly happy and luckier than you can ever imagine. And then you told me you were pregnant and I was terrified. I felt like I was going to lose that happiness again. I knew that I would screw it up and destroy what I was so lucky to have again. But -"

"But?"

"But today I realized that we've created a _child_ Teresa. I'm going to be a father again and – and it still terrifies me, but it also makes me realize that I've been given another chance. I don't want to mess this up but – for the first time, I _want_ this. I want him or her. I want to hold our child and love it and – and have a family again." By this time more tears had escaped from his eyes and he wiped them away, impatiently. "I _love_ you and I'm so thankful _you_ screwed up!"

"What?" she laughed.

He grinned. "By getting pregnant", he explained.

"Well, I think technically _you_ were the one who screwed up", she told him slyly. "I was the one who _got_ screwed."

"_Teresa Lisbon_!" he said, sounding shocked. But he laughed and then reached over and pulled her into a fierce hug. "Thank you", he whispered again. "I love you so much."

"And I love you." They sat there holding one another quietly for the next few minutes until Teresa finally stirred. "We'd better get to work because Abbott _doesn't_ love you and he'll give you a hard time for being late."

"Just me?"

"Mmm hmm. He knows everything is always your fault."

Jane snorted and started the car. "Actually, he does love me", he told her as they drove out of the parking lot. "He did give me his car to go to the airport that day", he told her.

"That was just because he didn't want to have to deal with you with me gone."

Jane sighed. "Probably true." He reached over again with his hand, and this time left it on hers.

As they were walking into the FBI building he stopped. "Can I have one of those pictures?"

"You mean of the ultrasound? Sure." She pulled open the manila envelope and reached in. There were half a dozen grainy photos and she looked through them. "Here, this is the clearest."

He reached over and took it. He stared at it for a few moments and then put it in his breast pocket – over his heart. They walked into the building together.

No one said anything as they arrived since Abbott was the only one who knew the reason for their morning off. Teresa made her way to her desk and pulled out some files, for the first time in days feeling like she could concentrate.

Jane walked by Cho's desk on the way to his couch. "Morning Cho."

"Morning. Everything okay?" Cho looked up, concern written on his face.

"Oh yeah", Jane stopped and grinned. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture. "Meet my son or daughter." He showed the fuzzy picture – showing not much more than the faint outline of a baby. "It's healthy and the perfect size."

Cho took the picture and for once allowed himself a big grin. "Congratulations Daddy."

Jane felt a twinge and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again he allowed himself to just be happy. He smiled. "Thanks!"


	23. Of Intentions and Errors

"Wow, that's really great! You can even see the fingers and toes."

"I know. Amazing isn't it?"

Michelle walked into the break room to see Wylie looking down at a piece of paper. Jane was standing beside him, a big grin on his face.

She wondered what in the world would make a man like Jane look so happy. He was a strange one and she couldn't quite make him out. She'd resisted looking at his file but was starting to think it might be a good idea because so far she hadn't been able to read him at all.

"Hey Agent Vega!" Wylie, the young computer geek lifted his head and smiled at her. He then held out the paper he was holding. "You have to see this. It's really amazing."

She wanted to groan but knew it was important to at least try and appear interested in her co-workers lives, even thought what she really wanted to do was get down to work and solve crimes. "What is it?" she asked as she walked forward, her hand held out to accept the paper.

She glanced down at it and frowned. It was clearly the picture of a fetus – an ultrasound she guessed, although she'd never actually seen one before. "Oh – uh – interesting", she said. "It's a baby."

"Wow, Abbott said you were bright Agent Vega. He knew what he was talking about, didn't he?' Patrick said.

She lifted her head and focused her eyes on the arrogant ass that was Patrick Jane. He was giving her a sweet smile, as if he hadn't just insulted her. She decided not to comment, instead she handed the paper pack to Wylie. Just before she did she noted the name in the corner of the paper: T. Lisbon.

Oh, so this was Lisbon's baby. That must be why Wylie was showing it around – although that seemed a rather strange thing for him to do.

"Thanks for showing me Mr. Jane", the young man said as he handed the paper to the consultant. "That's really fantastic."

"It is, isn't it", Jane grinned. He then tucked the paper into an inside pocket of his jacket, picked up his cup from the table and, with a small salute to Vega, headed back out into the bullpen.

Wylie smiled at her again, although he looked a bit uncomfortable. With a mumble of something he too headed out, leaving her alone in the break room.

As she grabbed a drink from the fridge she couldn't help but wonder why in the world Jane was showing around a picture of Teresa's ultrasound. He knew they had been partners for many years and she supposed they must be friends, but still, it seemed like a strange thing to do.

The next morning they were again called to a murder, this time on the campus of the University. A freshman student had been killed and the FBI was called in to investigate.

"Cho, take Jane and Agent Vega with you", Abbott told them. "The President and the head of campus security will meet you there. And Jane", he stopped and sighed. "Just – try and listen to Cho."

Jane grinned. "I always listen to him."

"Yeah, you listen and then ignore me", Cho told him. "Come on, I'll drive."

Jane was relegated to the back seat as Agent Vega immediately claimed the front passenger seat. It was obvious to him that she thought consultants rated pretty low on the 'who's important' scale.

Oh well, he was too happy today to let much bother him. And anyway, there were many ways he could deal with her. He'd have to wait and find one.

"So, you just graduated Agent Vega?" he asked from the back seat.

"Yes. I was top of my class."

"Of course you were", he answered with a smile. "You always made sure you were top of your class at everything, as that was a way to try and make your military father proud of you. Of course it really didn't work, as he wanted a son to follow in his footsteps, not a daughter."

"What?" she turned and glared at him. "You don't know anything about my family."

"Oh, your father wasn't military?"

"Uh – yes he was – is – but he is proud of me and you don't know anything about it."

"Okay. But it must be frustrating since you've done so much better at everything than your younger brother and he's the one your father always doted on."

"_Jane_!" Cho looked in the rearview mirror, giving Jane a clear warning. "So Michelle, where are you from originally."

"Why don't you ask Jane", she answered bitterly. "He seems to know everything."

"She was born in North Carolina but moved to Germany with her parents when she was a child – pre-school I guess. After that they lived in Pennsylvania but ended up in Kansas and then Colorado. She did her undergraduate degree in Chicago before going to Quantico to do her training for the FBI."

"So you looked up my records did you Mr. Jane", Michelle said. Somehow that angered her, although why she didn't know.

"No", he answered. After that he appeared to lose interest and for the remainder of the trip looked out of the window.

"And he lies on top of everything", she muttered.

"Lies?" Cho frowned and glanced at her.

"It's obvious he looked me up. I don't know why he doesn't admit it."

"I doubt he did", he told her. "He's very good at figuring stuff out about people."

She snorted. "Right! I'm sure he could tell I lived in Germany from the age of three to eight."

"Yes, he can."

Who the hell _was_ this man! His co-workers must have been conned by him into believing all this crap about him. That was it! He was a conman who made people believe he was something of a mind-reader. Well, she was no gullible nelly! She would quickly show these people that he couldn't compete with a smart and highly trained agent.

They arrived at the University and were soon speaking with the head of security and the President of the college. They didn't find out much from either of them and soon moved to the murder scene.

To make the case even more complicated, the young woman who was killed was an international student from China. Her parents were extremely wealthy and had sent her to the US to improve her English. The police had already notified the Chinese consulate, which was trying to get in touch with her parents.

Her body had been found in her dorm room by another student. Marianne Plesko was her lab partner, and when Li Na hadn't shown up for the class in which they were to present their project, she'd run over to the dorm to find her.

When Agent Vega walked into the dorm room she'd immediately turned pale. There was blood everywhere. Li Na was still lying on the bed, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

She glanced at Cho, who looked his usual, unperturbed self. She guessed he'd seen enough of these kinds of scenes not to let it get to him. Michelle then looked at Jane, curious to see how he was reacting.

He looked the same as always, although it was Jane who approached the body. He bent over and looked at it carefully, fortunately without touching anything. His lips were pursed slightly, as if he was slightly puzzled about something. After a few seconds of examining the body he stood up and moved back.

"Looks like -" Cho said, looking at Jane and knowing his colleague would know what he meant..

"Yes, it does. That may only be coincidental though, or it could also be a message for us."

"Possibly. I hope not."

"Mmm", Jane answered, although it wasn't clear whether he was agreeing with Cho or not. "It's definitely a professional. There was no anger in this. It was done very methodically."

"Political?"

"Possibly", agreed Jane. "We need to get information on the girl's parents and then see if there has been anyone here recently from China. It's connected to her family."

As they waited to speak to some of Li Na's fellow students and dorm mates Jane wandered off. Cho didn't seem to mind so she didn't say anything. It appeared as if people pretty much let the consultant do what he wanted. If she were in charge, that would change pretty quickly.

"I saw Agent Lisbon's baby today or at least the ultrasound", she told her companion. She knew that Kimball was close to Lisbon and thought it might be a good idea to start appearing a bit friendlier.

"Mmm. Still looks like a blob to me."

She laughed. "Yeah, me too, although I guess if it's your blob it would be special."

"Mmm hmm." he nodded.

"You've known Teresa for a long time?"

"Yeah, over thirteen years."

"Wow. That's – amazing. I haven't met her partner yet." She wasn't sure if Teresa was married or single, straight or gay and didn't want to presume, so she felt it was safe to put it that way."

"I'm her partner, Jane is her partner", he told her. At the silence that followed he frowned. "Oh, you mean _partner_?"

"Yes", she frowned. "I assumed she had one, although I guess now days that's not always the case. No one said anything about a father so -"

"How did you see the picture", Cho suddenly seemed very interested.

"Uh – Jane was showing it to Wylie when I walked into the break room. I thought it was a bit strange that it was he who was showing it around, but I guess he and Teresa have been partners for a long time and are probably good friends.

Cho actually laughed – and she was sure it was the first time she'd heard him do so. "Jane and Teresa are partners", he told her.

"Yes, I know – you just said that and I knew it before." When Cho lifted an eyebrow at her she frowned. "What?"

"They're _partners_! They're together." When Michelle continued to look confused he shook his head. "Jane is the baby's father."

She was stunned. She stared at Cho for way too long, not even blinking. "They're – they're _together_?"

"Yes, I thought you knew", he said calmly. "Everyone at work knows – has known for a while now."

"How – how long?"

"Have they been together? Mmm, not long. About six months I guess."

"I had no idea. But – it's not allowed is it?"

"Well, since he's a consultant and not a regular employee I guess the rules are different. And anyway, it's Jane."

"What does that mean?"

"He doesn't follow the rules he doesn't like so -", he shrugged.

"Why do people let him get away with that?"

"Why? Because he's Jane. He's unorthodox, sure, but he's also brilliant and can solve more cases in a day than the rest of us could in a month. He's a little hard to get used to, but he's actually a really decent guy."

"But – him and Lisbon? I just – wow. I can't believe I didn't catch that one. How do they manage to work together without killing one another?"

He grinned at that. "I don't know. Over the years there were many times I thought Teresa _was_ going to kill him. There were times I wanted to as well."

"And Jane?"

"Oh, Jane's pretty even tempered. He won't get mad at you, but he will get back at you if you do something that – irritates him."

"Like how?"

Cho just grinned. "In very inventive ways. So I'd watch out if I were you. Don't get on his bad side."

Michelle was pretty sure she already had. She sighed and wished she could start things over again with Patrick Jane. She still didn't like him, but was finding more and more that he _was_ liked by her colleagues – and she was pretty sure they were also very protective of him.

She found that strange, because he didn't really seem like the kind of person who needed someone to look after him. He was a thoroughly confident – she would say arrogant – man. He also appeared to be someone who wasn't particularly emotional and didn't let things bother him. In fact, he seemed pretty cold if his demeanor at the murder scene had been anything to go by.

He's probably the kind of guy who's gone through life with everything handed to him on a silver platter, she thought. It was obvious, from the way he spoke and his manner that he'd been born into wealth and power. No having to scramble for day-to-day existence. She really wondered what Lisbon saw in him.

She shook her head. It didn't really matter though. She was going to have to work with him and get along with him. She'd better start trying to be a bit nicer. It was going to be tough because if there was anything she detested, it was spoiled rich arrogant men.

The next few days she tried hard to be nice to Jane. The only response she got was the occasional knowing look from the man. He treated her politely, but she always got the impression he was laughing at her inside. It enraged her.

Michelle Vega was a woman who needed to have others take her seriously. She craved the respect of the people she worked for and with. She needed people to know she was smart and competent and that she was equal to any man.

Jane had, inadvertently she was sure, hit the nail on the head about her father. A tough military man, he'd had little time for the daughter his wife had born him. When Michelle had been followed, two years later, by a brother, her father had turned his attention solely on his son.

The fact that that son had turned into much of nothing didn't seem to matter to her father. He still treated her as if she was a child while he constantly praised her younger brother. Although she'd never admit it to a soul, her quest for perfection, her love of order and of doing things the right way, were all a search for acceptance and praise. Jane had discovered that about her, and for that she detested him.

They'd wrapped up the case with the young Chinese woman, Li Na. It turned out that a rival businessman of her father's had arranged the hit when he'd lost millions on a deal that had been sabotaged by Li Na's father. He'd arranged a hit man – and had wanted to send an especially gruesome message by arranging a bloody murder, in the style of a famous American serial killer. Jane had figured it out and had led them to the killer.

The businessman hadn't survived long after his arrest in China. The car that was taking him to jail had been hijacked and he'd been taken. They found his body a few days later. It was clear he had been slowly tortured to death. Li Na had been avenged.

Since the murder had been solved, and no other major crime had, as yet, come to their attention, there were a few days when things were slower. They looked through cold cases and finished paper work that had been left hanging. Michelle spent quite a few hours with Lisbon, and was impressed at the knowledge and skills of the other woman. She still couldn't figure out what someone like Teresa was doing with such an arrogant, lazy and spoiled man. She did have to admit he seemed to be able to solve crimes, but he never appeared very interested and she suspected he wouldn't ever be able to stick at anything for any length of time.

Still, she was getting to like both Lisbon and Cho and knew that if she was going to fit in she'd have to at least learn to tolerate Jane. She'd also have to do a better job at pretending to – if not like him – than at least respect him.

She looked up again and snuck a look at the couch where he resided. She was pretty sure she'd never actually seen him sit at a desk and wondered if he did any real work at all. She would sometimes catch him reading case files, so she guessed that counted. But mostly he seemed to doze.

She had caught him pulling out the ultrasound picture quite a few times and gazing at it. She could never quite tell what his expression meant. She didn't know if he was happy or not when he looked at the image. A few times she'd thought she'd caught a look of fear, but she'd scoffed at herself. Patrick Jane was a man who had never known real fear, of that she was sure. She really didn't think any of his emotions ran very deep.

She looked down and sighed. She had to stop thinking so negatively of him or she'd never be able to work with him. And she also knew that if things were to change she would have to be the one to take the first step. She didn't think he cared less about her or what she thought of him.

So, what to do? She could try and talk with him when they all went out on a team night, although she really didn't know what to say to him. She had grown up travelling all over the country with a father in the military. She hadn't had a settled life and it certainly hadn't been one of luxury. It would have been completely different than Jane's.

They also operated totally differently when it came to work. She figured he did the consulting work because he was bored, not because he needed the work. She was also sure he didn't care that much about bringing people to justice. On the other hand she was obsessed with justice and certainly needed to make a living. So work was out as a topic of conversation.

The only thing she could possibly think of was the baby. He _seemed_ to be happy about it so maybe she could do something there. It was mid-afternoon when she made up her mind.

The next morning Teresa, Cho and Jane were called in to Abbott's office to discuss a case that had happened before her time. She chatted for a while with Wylie, but when he went to grab a coffee she sat down at her desk and pulled out the card.

It was a 'Congratulations Daddy' card – for the upcoming birth of a child. She'd give it to Jane and let him know she was happy for him. She pondered what to put and finally decided to keep it simple. Grabbing a colored pen she began to write.

_Dear Patrick, Congratulations to you and Teresa on the upcoming birth of your child. A child is a wonderful thing and I know you'll love it and look after it well. You'll be a great father._

She debated how to sign it. Michelle was too familiar, and Vega sounded too cold. In the end she decided not to use her name at all. Instead she smiled and drew a little picture. "There, that should do." Glancing around to make sure no one was around, she placed the envelope on Jane's couch. He couldn't help but find it.

She went back to work and soon Wylie returned. A few minutes later Jane came out of the office and headed towards his couch. Teresa and Cho remained in Abbott's office, discussing some final points.

Jane saw the envelope and he stopped and regarded it for a moment. With a shrug he picked it up. He looked at everyone on the floor but since no one was looking at him he shrugged again and opened the envelope.

Michelle watched as he read the card. Suddenly, without warning, she could see Jane's face blanch, and the card fell out of his hand to the floor. "What?" she muttered.

The next thing she knew she heard Teresa call out and run towards him. What the heck was going on?

"Jane – Patrick, what's wrong?" Teresa was looking at Jane with real fear in her eyes.

Teresa had seen Jane go pure white, a look of utter terror on his face. She had rarely seen him look so frightened. Without further thought she ran to him, worried that he was going to fall over. What had happened?"

"Patrick", she repeated, putting her arms around him. "What is it?"

By this time everyone in the office knew something was wrong. Abbott had stepped out of his office and was looking on in concern. Cho had also hurried up to Jane, looking carefully around to see if there was any threat he hadn't noticed.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. He's not saying anything."

It was then that Cho noticed something on the floor. He bent over and picked it up. It was a congratulations card and had a baby on the front. Frowning, he opened it and immediately saw what it was.

"Teresa", he said quietly, passing her the card. She took it from him with a puzzled look.

"What?"

"Open it."

She opened the card and immediately saw the same thing. "Oh my God! Where did this come from?"

Michelle had been watching the whole thing play out, feeling a sense of dread. She knew something had happened, that she had done something but she couldn't figure out what it was. She knew she had to step forward however.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong with the card?"

Cho turned to her and showed her. When she looked at him confused, he gave her a strange look. "Red John", he said softly.

Red John? It took her a moment to remember the name. He'd been a notorious serial killer who had been caught a few years previously. She'd been in the midst of final exams when it had happened so she hadn't paid that much attention to it. But she couldn't understand what that had to do with anything.

She looked at the card again. She'd written a nice note and had drawn a little smiley face on it in red. She couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"I – I don't understand", she said to Cho. "I gave him that card. I wanted to congratulate him on the baby, that was all. What did I do wrong?"

Teresa looked up at that, a stunned expression on her face. "What did you do _wrong_? My God – don't you know?"

"Know? Know what?" she was almost in tears. "What's wrong with sending a card. I felt bad because I thought that Jane and I got off to a bad start and I wanted to do something to – to set things on a better track, that was all."

"And the – smiley face?" Cho said softly.

"What about it? I didn't know how to sign my name so I put that. People use it all the time."

"Jane – it's okay", Teresa said softly. "It was just a mistake. Michelle didn't know. She didn't mean anything by it. It's not what you think."

Jane took a deep breath, feeling like he was coming out of a trance. The terror that had hit when he'd seen that – that abomination – had been like nothing he'd ever experienced. He'd literally frozen in fear. Even now he felt like things were off kilter and suddenly he knew he had to sit down – either that or vomit. "Teresa", he croaked. He didn't know where to sit.

"Here, come on." She led him to the couch. "Can someone get him some water."

Michelle stood watching, still not understanding what was going on. She received some strange looks from people – and a couple people actually looked disgusted at her. She knew she had committed some terrible faux pas, she just wished she knew what it was.

Cho took her arm gently. "You still didn't look up Jane's record, did you?"

She shook her head. Damn it – why hadn't she? For once she'd tried to be nice and it had backfired in a big way because she hadn't done her homework. Maybe her father was right and she was useless.

"Come on, let's go get a coffee and I'll tell you about him."

She nodded and stood there silently, waiting while he went to talk to Teresa. She wished there was a hole she could crawl into.

"I'm going take Vega down and get her some coffee. She had no idea – still doesn't. I'm going to go explain it to her."

Teresa nodded, although she was still so angry she couldn't look at the other woman. Since the day she'd walked in Michelle Vega had been determined to dislike Jane, without even knowing anything about him. She didn't know if she could ever forgive her for what she had – unknowingly it was true – done.

Cho escorted her down to the cafeteria, away from all the accusing eyes. At least she thought they were accusing. She sat down while her companion went and got her a coffee.

"I didn't mean to hurt him", she said quietly when the agent came back. She smiled bitterly. "For once I was trying to do something nice."

"I know. It was just a mistake – unfortunately a bad one" he told her, pulling no punches.

"But I still don't understand what I did."

Kimball took a deep breath. "Let me tell you about Jane." He stopped for a moment to try and figure out where to start. "Jane grew up on the carny circuit. From a young age he showed himself to have an incredible ability to remember things and also to discern things about people. His father decided to exploit that and turned him into the Boy Wonder. He told people that Patrick was psychic – and so his career began."

"He – he claims to be psychic? I've never heard him say that."

"Oh no – not now. In fact he's the first to tell you there are no things as psychics. He's also really open about the fact that he used to be a con man. He's neither anymore."

Her whole perception of Jane had just been shot out the window and she was trying to grapple with a whole new picture. "So, I'm assuming that the fact that he's no longer psychic is in some way related to today?"

"Sort of." Cho sighed. "Have you heard of Red John?"

Cho had mentioned him earlier so she nodded. "I know he was a serial killer, but that's all. Why? Did Jane catch him?"

"Oh yeah. But it took him ten years."

"Ten _years_. Why did he stick with it that long?"

"Because Red John murdered Jane's wife and five year old daughter."

She didn't know what to do or say. She felt like her stomach dropped into her shoes, but other than that felt totally numb. God had she misjudged him. She closed her eyes, feeling somehow that by not seeing anyone she too could become invisible, so that no one would look at her in the way she knew she deserved.

"Why?"

Cho went on to explain what Patrick had said on TV. "He got home that night and there was a note on his bedroom door from Red John. When he opened the door he found the bodies of his wife and daughter. They'd been horribly cut and mutilated."

"Oh God", she put her hand over her mouth, afraid she was going to be sick.

"But that wasn't all", Cho said gently. "Red John always painted a sign on the wall over his victims, in their blood."

She knew what was coming and wanted to get up and run away. Instead she opened her eyes and looked at the man across from her. "What was it?"

"A smiley face."

"Oh God – no", she whispered. Why hadn't she looked at his record? Why had she judged him without finding out about him? Wasn't that what she'd always hated about her father, about all those who decided who she was, without really knowing her?

"He hunted Red John for ten years and finally killed him. He had to flee the country and lived abroad for two years. The FBI offered him a deal. If he worked for them, he could come back and not be charged for the murder. He agreed to do it as long as they hired Teresa."

"They loved each other."

"Well yes, but neither of them knew it – not then at least. It was a few months before Jane figured it out. She almost married someone else but Jane told her in time. We were all happy for them. They both deserve some happiness – especially Jane."

"And the baby?"

"Well" Cho grimaced. "That's why Jane reacted the way he did. He was terrified about having a baby after what happened to his daughter. It's only been in the last few days that he's started to deal with it and I think find some joy in the idea. He's still scared though that something will happen to his child. When he saw the card …"

She shook her head, again feeling like she wanted to be sick. "What should I do? I really had no idea at all. I really didn't want to hurt him. What should I do?"

"Talk to him. Tell him that it was an innocent mistake. He may believe you but he may also be very wary of you. Red John had lots of followers and although we hope we got them all, there's always the possibility that there are a few left. He may suspect you of being a follower."

"But I'm not. I just didn't know about Jane or Red John. And I certainly didn't know about the smiley face."

"Just tell him the truth. He's pretty good at telling if a person is lying." Cho finished his coffee. "Are you done? If so, let's go upstairs. You may be able to talk to him now."

Michelle nodded and stood up slowly. This had to be one of the hardest things she'd ever done. But she knew, inside, that she deserved for it to be hard. She'd judged a man harshly – and wrongly – without giving him a chance. She deserved to feel some pain and just hoped that he could forgive her one day.

"He's a good man you know", Agent Cho told her as they headed upstairs. "He takes a little getting used to, but he's a loyal friend."

"He seems so – uninvolved", she said, "like he doesn't care."

"That's Jane's way of hiding the fact that he cares too much. Don't be fooled by his careless manner. He is a man of very deep feelings but he only rarely, and only to close friends, let's that show."

She nodded. Starting to day she was resolved to get to know the real Patrick Jane. Any man who had gone through what he had, and who had come out still willing to love and to live was someone she wanted to know.


	24. Of Ducks and Justice

He had a nightmare that night. One so bad he cried out in his sleep, which terrified poor Lisbon. She had a hard time waking him up and then calming him down. Eventually he managed to relax, at least enough to stop shaking and Teresa convinced him to go shower while she changed the sheets. He had woken up in a cold sweat and everything was damp.

"Feeling better?" she met him at the bathroom door and hugged him.

"Yeah, thanks", he smiled and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault", she said as she guided him back to bed. "I made you some chamomile tea" she nodded towards the mug sitting by his side of the bed.

"Thank you. You're too good to me you know."

"I know", she grinned. "But I figure I get a lot back, so it's okay."

"Really? What do you get?" he asked, sounding serious.

"You. I get you."

He wasn't sure if that was such a good bargain but knew it was more than his life was worth to say it. Teresa hit him on the shoulder. "Hey, what was that for?"

"For what you were thinking. Patrick, when are you going to get it that I'm lucky to have you? You're an amazing, loving, _interesting_ man. You bring me so much, so stop being so down on yourself."

"What do I bring you Teresa?" he wanted to know. He turned on the bed, so that he was facing her. "I wake you up with nightmares, I could barely even acknowledge that you were pregnant with my child, let alone support you. I spent ten years hunting a killer and then I became one myself. _What_ do I possibly bring you?"

"You know me and you love me anyway", she said. "You know my faults, you know my weaknesses – but you also know my strengths and my dreams – and you love me for all of them. And you darn well make my life more interesting."

He chuckled. "That I'll agree with." He sighed. "This was so stupid."

"No, it was totally understandable. _I_ was freaked out by that damn card too. Don't beat yourself up about it and don't let it get to you. It was a crazy mistake, that's all."

"You think that's all it was?"

"Cho called me, after we left. He had a chance to speak to Michelle and he's sure it was an honest mistake. She didn't even know we were a couple and she hadn't read or heard anything about you. I think she just thought you were an ass."

He laughed at that. "Yes, I think you're right. You know, in a strange way it was kind of nice."

"What was?"

"Oh, someone not knowing anything about me – just reacting to me as a regular person."

"Jane – you _aren't_ a regular person", his love told him gently. "You're extraordinary."

"Maybe", he smiled quickly, but then grew serious. "I just mean – it's nice not to be thought of as the man who lost his wife and child to a serial killer, or the man who spent ten years hunting the murderer – or the former psychic and con-man. It's nice just to be a regular – ass." He grinned.

She leaned forward and kissed him. "I understand. And you know, as time goes on, people will think about it less and it will fade. I think having a child will help. Pretty soon we'll just be regular parents, taking our kid to daycare or to the park."

"Sounds good", he answered, although there was still a tension about him, a look in his eyes that told of his remaining fear.

"You're frightened again?"

"Not again", he answered slowly. "It hasn't left. But I was starting to deal with it and this -"

"Set you back?"

"I'm sorry", he said simply. "I'll try not to let it, but I keep seeing that damned face. I thought I'd dealt with that Teresa", he cried, grabbing his pillow and holding it in front of him. "Now I'm dreaming of it again and it's always in the context of the baby."

"I wish I could take that away from you", she said quietly, "but I know I can't. I expect it will always be with you, but I also believe it will begin to fade too, over time. All we can do is go forward and not let the bad things take over."

"I know", he sighed "and I'm trying, really I am." He leaned up against the headboard, contemplating all he had and trying to not let today's episode get to him more than it already had. He lifted his teacup and took a sip. "She's going to feel guilty as hell", he said abruptly, sounding not at all upset by that fact.

"I'm sure she will", Teresa answered, a glint in her eye. She was a long way from forgiving the arrogant new agent. "It'll be good for her soul."

* * *

Michelle Vega spent a restless night. By the time she and Cho had gotten back Jane and Teresa had gone home. Abbott had called her into his office and nicely told her that he'd given them the rest of the day off. He'd then – again nicely – reamed her a new one for not doing her homework and reading up on her teammates. "I would have expected you to prepare yourself for this job", he told her, "and part of that means finding out everything you can about the people you're going to work with."

She'd nodded, apologized and told him that she would do everything she could to make up for what she'd done.

"We'll see", he said. "If Jane or the others can't trust you, I'll have you transferred", he told her bluntly. "This team is too good to lose and you, Agent Vega, are the newby here. Jane may be a consultant, but he has years of experience and dozens of successful cases under his belt. You will show him some respect and you will learn to deal with the fact that he operates differently than most other agents. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir", she nodded, really wishing there were a hole or a corner in which to crawl.

"Look Michelle", he said, suddenly sounding tired. "I know you didn't mean any harm and were, in fact, trying to do something nice. Just next time – find out as much information as you can before doing something. It's an important lesson in your work."

"Thank you Sir. I will. And I am terribly sorry. I really didn't mean for this to happen."

"I understand but – watch yourself."

"I will."

"No, I mean really _watch yourself_. Jane probably has something planned for you and his way of getting back at people can be – rather ingenious."

She looked at him quizzically, wondering.

Abbott sighed. "Yes, I speak from experience. Now go."

She couldn't help the small grin that appeared, but thanked him and headed back to her desk. As unpleasant as that had been, it could have gone much worse.

In fact, it _was_ worse that very afternoon. She had quickly become a pariah to the other agents on the floor. She'd always thought that most people had trouble with Jane, but it was clear that he had their loyalty – and were they ever pissed at her. She felt like she'd walked into a refrigerator.

Even dear, sweet Wylie refused to look at her and kept his eyes on his computer. The only person who was nice was Cho. She sighed. She'd barely started and already everyone hated her.

Now she had to go back into work, on practically no sleep and she'd have to face Jane. She screamed into her pillow. If only she could go back and do the last few weeks over again.

* * *

"Jane?"

"Hey Cho – what's up?" Jane glanced at his watch and wondered why his friend and partner was calling at 7:30 in the morning. He hoped it wasn't a murder. He was hoping for a quiet day after the night he and Teresa had had.

"Just calling to let you know that everyone is pretty mad at Vega for the card. She's pretty much being frozen out by the rest of the staff."

Jane sighed. "I wondered about that. You're sure that this was just a mistake on her part?"

"Yeah. She didn't have a clue and she feels pretty awful about it."

Jane nodded, but then realized that Cho couldn't see him. "Okay, leave it with me. And thanks."

"No problem. See you soon."

"Who was that?" Teresa walked out from the bedroom, just having finished showering. Plopping down on the bed next to Patrick she snuggled up to him.

"Cho. He told me everyone is giving Vega a hard time."

"Really? Good."

"Teresa", he shook his head. "The poor woman made a mistake."

His love snorted. "Right. And she's been so kind to you up until now."

"She didn't know what to make of me", he told her, his eyes unfocused as he thought of something.

"Most people don't. That doesn't mean they're obnoxious."

"I'll talk to her this morning."

"And tell her what?"

He shrugged. "I'll figure it out. Now – where were we?"

"Uh – you were sitting on the bed and I just showered. It's your turn."

"Mmm. Although I think there's something I'd rather do." He turned into her and began to nuzzle her neck.

"_Patrick!"_

"What?"

"We have to go to work."

He grinned. "Not right now we don't".

* * *

Michelle arrived at work and sat for a few minutes in her car. She watched as a number of people got out of theirs and walked towards the building. She wanted to wait until there was no one else in the parking lot. Call her a coward, but she'd rather not have to face anyone this morning.

Looking at her watch she knew it was time to head in. The last thing she needed was to be late, especially after her talk with Abbott. With a deep breath and a small prayer she headed towards the front door.

A few people passed her but since she didn't know them, she wasn't worried. It was as she stepped up to the front door that she noticed Patrick Jane. He was leaning up against the wall by the door, but he straightened when she showed up.

She stopped dead and looked directly at him. She swallowed and then opened her mouth, ready to apologize and to grovel.

"Not here", he told her with a smile. "Come on." He carefully grabbed her arm, took one look around, and headed away from the building. She had no idea where he was taking her as she hadn't had any chance to explore the surrounding area since she'd been here.

They walked for almost five minutes until they came on a little park with a few benches around the sides. "Nice place to come and grab lunch", he told her. He led her over to one of the benches and sat down. With a gesture he invited her to sit.

"There are some ducks that live in the pond just – over there", he pointed. "There's a mother and eight ducklings. I like to come and watch them, although the ducklings are getting a lot bigger now and will soon be on their own.

She didn't know what to say. He was talking about ducks when she'd done that horrible thing to him yesterday. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth –

"There was a fox around here one day and I was worried he was going to get one of the ducklings, but mama herded them all out into the middle of the pond. He waited a long time and finally gave up. She is a very good mother."

Michelle regarded him closely, only noticing now that he looked rather pale and tired – probably about like her. "I'm sorry", she blurted. "I didn't know."

"About the duck?" he asked with a smile.

"What?" She frowned. "No – I mean, no, I didn't know about the ducks but I was talking about yesterday."

"Ah", he nodded. "Yes."

"I can't tell you how awful I felt – feel. I would never ever do anything like that on purpose. I really was – I mean, I felt badly that we didn't seem to have hit it off very well, and I know that was my fault, so I was trying to do something nice. I just had no idea."

"Good to know", he nodded. "You didn't read up on me before taking this job." He said it as a statement, rather than a question.

"No, and I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, Abbott gave me hell for that."

"Really? Actually, I think you did the right thing – not reading my file that is. Did you look up the others?"

"Just enough to know that Kimball and Teresa had worked together at the CBI for many years."

"I see. Can I ask why you didn't read up on us?"

She sighed. "I know it was stupid, but I wanted to get to know everyone face-to-face first. Sometimes the things people write can give a false impression. I know – stupid right?"

"No. Actually I agree with you completely." He grinned. "I didn't read your file either."

"No? But you knew all those things about me."

He shrugged. "Guesses – well, not exactly guesses. I'm just observant."

"That's what Cho said. He said you used to be a psychic."

"No", he shook his head, almost sounding angry. "I was _never_ a psychic. I was a conman who pretended to _be_ a psychic."

"Were you good?"

"A good conman? Yes, very."

"But how? I mean, how do you pretend to be a psychic and pull it off so people believe it?"

He thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Tricks, mind games, having a good memory", he smiled, "being observant."

"I see." She sat quietly for a minute. "Do you think – are you willing to still work with me?"

He shrugged. "I'll work the way I always work", he told her. "I'm fine with having you there, if you want to be. I think the real question is, are you willing to work with me?"

She regarded him seriously, knowing it was a valid question. _Could_ she work with him or would he drive her crazy? He didn't follow the rules, did his own thing, showed no respect for authority, and seemed to be able to see right through her. And then there was the biggest issue of all.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He glanced at her and then smiled. "You can ask."

Meaning he might not answer. Still, she needed to know. "Why do you do this?"

"And by this you mean - ?"

"Work with the FBI, solve cases. Why do you do it?"

"Didn't Cho tell you about the deal I made with the FBI?"

"Yes, he did. Is that the only reason?"

Where a second ago Jane had been rather flippant and appeared totally relaxed, now he grew serious. He regarded her carefully and then thought about what she had asked. Finally he spoke.

"At first – with the CBI – it was to find out as much as I could about Red John. They were the lead on the case so I figured that if I worked for them I'd be able to find him more easily. It also", he paused and looked into the distance. "It also helped that I had something to do, something to keep my mind occupied."

It was obvious what he meant and, for the first time, Michelle found herself feeling real sympathy for this rather strange man. Although he hid it well, she could suddenly see the pain that must still exist behind his lighthearted persona.

He looked at her and his sunny smile appeared. "I drove Teresa crazy", he told her. "I'm surprised she didn't shoot me years ago."

"That's what Cho said."

Jane actually laughed – and she realized it was something he didn't do very often. He smiled a lot but she was starting to wonder how many of his smiles actually portrayed real joy, and how many were a front. Somehow she knew that the laughter was real – and much less common. "Yeah. I think he had to restrain her himself a few times."

"And you enjoyed that", she said, her head tilted as she looked at him.

"Sometimes", he admitted. "Still do", he grinned.

She shook her head. "So, you're here because of Teresa?"

He again regarded her, as if trying to make up his mind. Finally, with a sigh he turned away from her and stretched his legs out in front of him.

"Not – completely", he admitted.

She noticed that he was squinting as if trying to see something in the distance, but when she looked all she could see were the trees on the other side of the park.

"Justice", he finally said softly.

"For the victims who have been murdered?"

He laughed softly. "They're dead. They couldn't care less about justice. No, for the living – for the families and loved ones, for the innocent. And justice for the guilty. No one should be able to get away with murder."

"Some people would say you did", she told him gently.

He smiled, although he still didn't look at her. "That wasn't murder", he said.

"It was justice?"

This time he turned to her and smiled – a full on, teeth bared smile. "Yes, it was justice."

She nodded and sat back. "You asked me if I could still work with you."

"Mmm hmm."

"And the answer is yes. _I_ may want to kill you at times – probably a lot of times – but I also think there's a lot I can learn from you."

"And it matters", he stated.

"Matters?"

"That I'm not here just to escape a prison sentence or because I'm in love with Lisbon. It matters to you that I'm doing this for -"

" – justice", she said. "Yes, it matters."

"Good." He stood up slowly and stretched. "I think it's time to get back or Teresa is going to send Cho after us – and you don't want that, believe me."

She stood up as well. "Scary?"

"Oh yeah. He can be very scary. Not as scary as an angry Lisbon though. Watch out for her."

Michelle groaned softly. "And I expect she's pretty mad at me now."

He grimaced. "Yeah. Sorry. It'll probably take her a while to get over it."

"And how about you?" she wanted to know. "Are you still angry."

"I wasn't angry", he told her. "It – upset me – seeing that symbol", he admitted, again not looking at her. "But I wasn't angry."

"And you're okay with everything between us?"

He considered this for a moment. "As long as I get the front seat."

She rolled her eyes and then laughed. "Okay, it's a deal. But I still don't think they should let you lie around on the couch all day."

He smiled and they walked back to the FBI building together.


	25. Of Lies and Truth

_**My apologies for not replying to you amazing wonderful spectacular people who reviewed (I will, I promise). I love you all and am bad at replying - so please forgive me. **_

Jane and Vega walked onto the floor together. Although she appeared a bit pale, he had a smile on his face and was speaking to her animatedly.

"It's true. Wood ducks can have two broods of ducklings in one year. I don't think our duck is a wood duck, although I'll have to check. It would be interesting if she were though. That way we might see another brood since her babies are ready to leave home.

"I guess it would be", Vega said, not quite sure what to say – or to think. She appreciated the fact that Jane was speaking with her and making it look as if they were on friendly terms. The problem was, she didn't have a clue how to relate to the man. I mean ducks, really?

She avoided looking at most of the employees who were there, afraid to again see their looks of disgust. She did, however, glance over towards Lisbon. The agent had her eyes fixed on Jane, a slight line between her eyes, which showed she was still worried about the consultant. At that moment Teresa's eyes swung to Vega.

Yup – she's mad as hell at me, Vega confirmed. She would have to try and fix this as soon as possible. They couldn't afford to have dissension on their team. Again, she didn't know quite _how_ she was going to fix it, but she'd have to figure it out.

"You went and saw the ducks again", Cho commented as they neared his desk.

"Didn't actually see them", Jane replied. "Mama duck is pretty protective and probably hid them."

"Mmm", Cho murmured. "You okay Vega?"

"What? Oh – yes, just fine. Mr. Jane – uh - Patrick and I went for a walk down by the pond. I didn't know it was there."

"He likes it", Cho nodded. "He's obsessed with ducks."

"I am not", Jane replied with a hurt look. "The babies are cute."

"He also likes babies", the Korean agent told her.

Jane gave a big grin, clearly agreeing with the ever-inscrutable agent. "Who doesn't like babies?"

"They're okay", Kimball shrugged.

"You my friend", Jane continued to grin and headed towards his couch, "are a fraud." He looked over his shoulder and called out – "Cho _loves_ babies."

"Not as much as you do Jane", Cho called back. "Good thing too", he mumbled.

Jane continued to smile as he lowered himself to his couch. He grabbed a file that was sitting there and then laid back, his feet up. "Hey Teresa", he spoke, not looking at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine Jane", she sighed. "You're late."

"Mmm hmm. Went to see the ducks. They weren't there."

She nodded, knowing darn well what he'd done. It was moments like these that she realized what a _good_ man he was. He often hid it under all sorts of things, but he was kind-hearted, at least to those he saw as vulnerable. She rather suspected that Vega had moved from 'tight-ass' to vulnerable all in one day.

Lisbon was still worried about him, knowing how good he was at hiding things. He still looked more pale than usual and tired, but he seemed reasonably happy, so maybe he wasn't -"

"Stop it Teresa", he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. A bit tired so I may doze, but otherwise I'm good."

"Okay – you'll tell -"

" – I'll tell you if I'm not. I promise. Now get to work."

She grunted and glared at her man. There were times she still wanted to slug him.

It was later that week and Teresa was relieved that everyday Patrick seemed a bit better, a bit more relaxed. He hadn't said much, although he had told her he was working on not letting the incident with the card get to him too much.

For the first time ever, he also began to let her know when he wasn't doing so well. It was a huge step in their relationship and she didn't know if she should acknowledge it or not.

It had started a couple of evenings after Vega's card. She'd been tidying up a bit when Jane had suddenly appeared behind her. She squealed in surprise when he reached out and pulled her to him. Thinking that he was teasing, she smiled and started to make a silly comment, when she noticed his face.

His eyes were red and he was pale. He had a pinched look about his face and she instantly knew that something was bothering him. She had immediately asked, of course, but all he'd done was shake his head. The next thing she knew she was being drawn into the bedroom and onto their bed. He snuggled up to her, burying his face in her neck. His arms grasped her tightly and he had one leg thrown over hers.

They lay there like that for a long time. His body was trembling, but he didn't say a word to her and she decided to let it go. It was more important that she just be with him. She didn't think words were what he needed right now.

Instead she began to stroke his head and neck – softly, gently, and rhythmically. She must have been doing it for all of twenty minutes before she could feel him begin to settle down. Whatever it had been, it had been serious and had frightened or worried him.

She loved him so much and wished she could take away his pain. She couldn't, but instead she could be with him and hold him through it. "I love you", she whispered. He clasped her more tightly and then, a couple of seconds later, he kissed her neck.

"You okay?" she asked after another few minutes.

He didn't reply for a while but finally he turned his head. "I think so", he told her. "Having you here – helps. It helps a lot."

"I'm here for you always." She stated simply.

"Yes, you always have been". He lifted himself up until he could see her clearly. "You don't know how much that means – has always meant."

"Yes, I do because you're here for me too."

"I haven't always been", he admitted.

She nodded, knowing that was true. At the beginning he was too focused on Red John to let anything or anyone get in his way. That began to change over the years and he'd proven his loyalty many times over. "When it counted you were", she told him. She pulled him down until he was snuggled up against her again. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and didn't answer for a moment. "Just – things sometimes pop into my brain and it's hard for me to put them away."

She knew he probably would never tell her what those things were although she could guess. She began to stroke his head again. "Does this help you put them away?"

He murmured and nodded. "Yes. It feels good."

"Good." She continued until she could hear that his breathing had evened out and his face had relaxed. He was asleep.

The same thing happened a couple of more times, although he started to apologize to her for 'wasting her time' on him. She always insisted that she loved it when he did this. And it was true. Having him reach out to her when in need, touched her like nothing had ever done. Jane showed his complete trust in her – and his love.

"Just go to sleep", she whispered to the man curled up in her arms.

By the end of the week he seemed much better. In fact he was back to the man he'd been before the infamous card. He still suffered anxiety attacks but for the most part he seemed to be handling things well. He even started to refer to the baby again.

As for Jane, he was not doing quite as well as he let on, but he was getting better. For years he'd hid his grief and his fears, partly because he hated anyone pitying him, and partly because he didn't have anyone to lean on. Over time he'd come to like and trust his team, but he still hadn't felt right about burdening them with his pain.

Not that he hadn't relied on each of them at one time or another – especially Teresa. She'd been there for a number of his crises and emotional break-downs and she'd always handled them with compassion and grace. But it hadn't been the same then. He didn't have the right to burden her, to rely on her. They hadn't been a couple - not like they were now.

He still couldn't and wouldn't burden her with some of the darker thoughts that resided in his mind or some of his nightmares. But just having her there, just being able to hold her, to touch her, to let her care for him was incredible. After Angela had died he didn't have anyone who loved him enough to be there for him. Oh, he had a few of the carny folk who were sympathetic and who would have tried to help him through everything, but they weren't family.

A part of him knew that the reason for his hunt for Red John was that he'd had to have something to fill the terrible hole that had been left by the death of his wife and daughter. If he'd had help and support and love – maybe that hole would have been filled more quickly by something positive. Instead in it had resided anger and revenge.

Well, that was over now. And he _did_ have someone who loved him and who cared about him. He smiled softly. How wonderful it was to again have someone hold him, touch him, stroke him. It made the wounds, the fears bearable.

"Jane?"

"Mmm hmm?" He was propped up in bed reading a book on ducks. She laughed softly and took it out of his hand. "Hey, what did you do that for?"

"I wanted to tell you something", she told him. She snuggled up to him on the bed. She smiled and reached out and gently touched his face.

"What is it?" He frowned slightly. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. I just – I wanted to tell you -"

"What Teresa?" He lifted his hands and took hers in them. "Tell me."

"I felt the baby move."

His breath caught and he stared. At first there was a rush of terror, but that was quickly followed by a bolt of – of joy which spread through him, removing all fear from his soul.

"Really?" he breathed. He reached out with his hand and put it over the ever-increasing roundness of her belly. He scooted down in bed until his head was beside her stomach. "Hey little one, are you movin' around in there? Be gentle on your Mommy, okay?" He continued to stroke her, his face looking as if he'd just been given the greatest gift in the world.

Teresa could feel herself crumble. She tried not to let Jane know, but soon her breathing grew erratic with her cries.

"Hey, you okay?" he lifted his head, a frown between his brows. "Teresa?"

"Sorry", she hiccupped. "I'm fine – happy, just happy."

"You're sure?"

"Yes", she smiled and put her hand in his hair. He continued to talk to her belly, so softly she couldn't always hear, but loud enough to know that he was happy too.

Jane continued to go to his evening group class, and was finding it easier every week. They still dealt with sad things, and painful things, but there was now a sense of hope in the room. He remembered what Carl had said, and the facilitator was right. It had gotten better.

He'd made some good friends there and wanted to invite some of them over, but wasn't sure how to ask Teresa. He worried that she'd feel uncomfortable. Still, he'd talk to her about it when he felt the time was right. He felt it was about time he started making some friends other than his co-workers.

As much as the group sessions were getting better, Jane was worried about Andrea. She still made it a point to talk to him alone each week and had even invited him out a few times. Each time he'd reminded her that he was not single and was definitely not interested in going out with her. So far it had only been uncomfortable, but he worried that she was becoming more and more obsessed with him. She didn't seem to have anyone else she could confide in and it worried him.

There were only two more sessions, including this evening's, before the group would be finished. Although he still had things he was dealing with, he couldn't help but admit that the group had done him a lot of good. For one thing, he realized that many of his feelings weren't crazy, but were common to people in his situation.

He'd also tried – seriously – to begin to let go of at least some of the guilt. As one of the parents in the group had said, if you fill your heart with anger and guilt, it's harder to fill it with love, either for your loved one who had died, or for anyone new in your life.

He knew if he was going to make a life with Lisbon and their child, he'd have to begin to move away from the guilt. It was going to be hard, but he was determined to do it – at least enough to let him look forward rather than back.

"So, since it's our second to last week", Carl began, "why don't we just open up the meeting to anything you want to discuss or to tell us."

It was Rachael who spoke first. Jane was a bit surprised as she was usually so shy. Tonight however, she had something she really wanted to share.

"I think Samuel came to see me last night", she said softly. She glanced around, looking as if she expected someone to laugh at her.

Jane didn't speak and didn't plan to. If this had been a couple of months ago, he would have scoffed and told Rachael that she was delusional, that there was no such thing as talking to the dead. He would have explained that it was her imagination, her subconscious wanting her son back. He would have told her that those who thought they could speak with the dead were nothing but charlatans.

But he said none of that. He'd grown to like and respect and to care for the people in this group. And he realized that if Rachael wanted to believe her four year old son had visited her, who was he to destroy her illusion.

"He – told me he was happy", she said. "He told me not to worry or be sad." She sniffed and looked around. "You probably all think I'm crazy", she filled in the silence.

"No", Tamika shook her head. "I don't think you're crazy. I felt Abby with me the other day. I was driving in the car and all of a sudden I _knew_ she was there, right beside me. She told me something similar – that she was okay and I was to stop being sad. She said that one day we'd be together again." She was crying by this time and her husband Joe put his arm around her and held her close.

"Has anyone else seen or heard their child?" Carl asked softly. "It's not uncommon", he told them. "In fact, people often talk about their child visiting them like an angel. For many it's comforting."

The others each spoke of their experiences – some believed they had seen and spoken to their child, others talked about _feeling_ their child with them.

"Jane – do you have any experiences you'd like to share?" What could he do, say he didn't believe in all that malarkey – and hurt and offend his fellow participants. With a sigh he knew what he had to do.

"I dreamt of my daughter", he told the group. "Well, actually I hallucinated her."

He got a few raised eyebrows for that. He went on and gave them an abridged version of events, including how he'd felt when she'd disappeared for good.

"Maybe she wasn't an hallucination", Andrew pointed out. "What if it really _was_ her – appearing to you in a dream."

Jane sighed. "I'm afraid it was the belladonna", he told them. "It's very dangerous and causes almost instant hallucinations. I drank some tea that was laced with it – by mistake."

"What was she like?" someone asked.

He went on to describe his make-believe daughter and soon was caught up in telling them what she'd said and how she'd acted. "She was the way I pictures my daughter would be", he explained at the end. "She wasn't real."

"I don't think you can know that Patrick", Stephanie said gently. "Maybe it really was your daughter who came to see you."

He gave her a sad smile and shrugged. He wasn't about to argue, but he knew Charlotte was dead and that she hadn't shown up to see him. It had been a hallucination, nothing more.

"Patrick talked to Christina", Andrea suddenly blurted out. "He was with her when she died."

"What – no – Andrea!" he said, trying to stop the woman from talking. "It was just a dream."

"Like Stephanie said, how can you _know_? I think you did see Christina and that you were there. You do – you really do have a gift. You were there, I know you were."

Jane closed his eyes. He didn't want this, _hadn't_ wanted this. "I'm sorry Andrea – but I'm not psychic. I appreciate the fact that so many of you feel like you've seen or heard your child – but I _can't_ believe that. Dead is dead – and that's what my wife and daughter are and nothing any of you can say to me will change that fact." He stood up and headed to the door. "I'm sorry – I don't want to upset you so I'm just going to leave –"

Everyone, including Carl tried to stop him, to convince him to stay. He finally held up his hand. "Look, I appreciate it, I do, really. But I need – I just need to be alone for a while. I'm not angry and I will be back next week. It's just – I can't talk about this. I'm sorry."

At that everyone quieted down. Carl nodded. "If that's what you need Patrick, then we understand. But do please come back next week. You're an important part of the group."

He gave them a small, lopsided smile and then left. He didn't know why he was so upset, but he knew he couldn't be in that room anymore, not with everyone who believed their child was still out there somewhere.

He wished he could believe that. He wanted to believe it. Sadly, he couldn't.

"Patrick!"

He whipped around at the sound of a voice, to see Andrea scurrying after him. Damn – what did she want now. "Andrea, please, I really don't want -"

"You _were_ with her Patrick, you were. Please don't lie to me. I know that for some reason you've denied your gift, but I need to know that my baby wasn't alone when she died. Please, tell me it's true – you were there."

He began to breathe faster, a feeling of panic rising in his chest. What could he say? Could he destroy the one bit of comfort she had? Or could he tell the truth – the truth that had become so important to him since he'd lost Angela and Charlotte. He didn't know what to do.

"Please", she cried, grabbing on frantically to his arm. "Please tell me you were there?"

"I – I was there", he agreed. "I saw her. I was with her and comforted her. She wasn't afraid Andrea. She knew she was going to be safe." The words were ripped from him, but he hated himself, hated what he was doing. He'd promised – he'd promised Angela that never again would he lie and here he was doing it.

"Thank you", she breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh thank you. I knew it – I knew you were with her." She moved closer and put her arms around his neck. "Thank you", she repeated. Without warning she moved closer and put her lips on his.

He tried to back away, horrified at what was happening. "Andrea", he pleaded. He grabbed her arms and attempted to pull them off but she clung even harder. "Please don't do this", he begged.

"No – you're mine Patrick. You and me – we _know_ what it is to lose our girls. We need to stay together. And – and you can talk to her. You can talk to Christina and tell her I love her. Please, we need to be together."

He finally managed to get her arms from around his neck and then he scurried back, as far away from her as he could get. "Andrea, listen to me. I cannot talk to Christina. That was the only time – and it was in a dream. And I _cannot_ be with you. I have a girlfriend – a woman I love very much and she is the mother of my child. You understand that, don't you?"

She was crying in earnest now and kept trying to reach him. He knew the situation was serious but didn't know what to do. Finally he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. Hating to do it, but knowing he had little choice, he dialed 911.

* * *

He closed the door quietly, and stood there for a moment. It wasn't until he heard Teresa say his name that he moved.

"Oh my God – Jane, what is it?" Teresa had been in her usual spot reading but she stood up and rushed over to him. Putting her arms around him she guided him to the couch. "What is it?" she asked again.

He leaned his head forward until it was resting on her shoulder and sighed, knowing that he was safe. "Andrea", he said softly.

"Andrea? What happened?"

He told her all that had occurred, finding release in being able to share it with someone. He felt so guilty, first for lying to Andrea, and then not being able to help her. He knew that she was going through a breakdown – he'd been there – but he was not the one to help her. And that made him feel sad.

"What happened to her", Teresa asked softly, her arm still around him.

He sighed. "By the time the ambulance arrived she was practically catatonic", he told her. "They put her on a gurney and took her to the hospital. One of the couples from the group went with her and said they'd stay until they could find family to be with her. Teresa – I felt – I felt so awful. I wanted to help her but I couldn't and – and I lied to her."

"Jane – you did the right thing to tell her you were with her daughter. Don't ever doubt that. She _needed _that comfort and you did the kind and decent thing. It doesn't matter if you don't believe it was real – what is important is that she believes it. And you haven't hurt anyone by telling her that."

He knew – logically – that what she said was true but he also knew it would take longer to convince his heart of that fact. He let out a deep breath. "They're going to commit her", he said suddenly. "They're going to lock her up in a room and pump her full of drugs."

She knew Patrick was remembering his own time under the care of a psychiatrist when he'd had his own breakdown. All she could do was hold him closer, knowing that it was a painful memory for him.

After a while he took a deep breath and pulled slightly away. He gave her a smile then – and although it was a bit shaky, at least he was looking better. "Sorry – you must be getting tired of me and all my breakdowns."

"Are you kidding?" she smiled and kissed him. "I get to hold you and comfort you – it makes me feel wanted."

"Wanted? God Teresa – you are _so_ wanted and needed. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Get into lots of trouble, I'm sure!"

He laughed and suddenly everything seemed lighter. "It's probably good that she's in hospital", he spoke abruptly. "This way she can get help."

"Did it help you?" Teresa asked softly. She'd never mentioned it before, never asked him about that time and wondered if she should have let it go. But she wanted to know about his life – about what he'd been through – and then let it go.

He sighed. "It did", he told her. "I was – I don't think I would have survived otherwise. Sophie – she helped me regain my sanity, and my will to survive." He then looked down at Teresa and smiled. "But you're the one who helped me want to live."

That, of course, deserved a kiss. They spent the rest of the evening relaxing and trying to keep their minds off of Andrea and what had happened. By the time they went to bed, Jane was feeling much better. He still felt badly for what Andrea was going through, but hoped she would get the help she needed. As for him? Well, he just wanted to sleep - Teresa held in his arms.


	26. Of Dreams and Daughters

"Hi Dad." Charlotte was sitting on the bench beside him, still wearing the shorts and top she'd had on last time. She was swinging one leg, the other curled up underneath her.

"Charlotte? What are you doing here?" They were at the pond close to the FBI office.

"I came to see you", she said. "And the ducks", she grinned.

"The ducks?" He looked at her, puzzled because he was almost positive he hadn't had any belladonna. Was this another hallucination? And if so, how had it happened?

"Yeah – the baby ones are cute."

"Yes – yes they are." He didn't know what was going on but suddenly decided not to think about it too hard. He was just going to enjoy being here with her. He'd missed her so much. "It's been a while."

"Since you saw me? Mmm – a few years, I guess."

"Uh – don't get me wrong – I'm happy to see you, but I haven't had any hallucinogens recently, so why are you here?"

"I don't know", she grinned. "It's your dream."

"Dream? That must be it. I'm dreaming you."

"Okay, sure. If you want to believe that I'm nothing more than a dream, go ahead."

"So what else could you be?"

"Maybe I'm real. Maybe I'm a ghost!"

"Stop that", he told her firmly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Why am I being ridiculous – and oh, by the way, you can't tell me to stop."

"Yes I can. If you are my daughter you have to listen to me. If you're just a dream – well then, you're _my_ dream and you still have to listen."

She rolled her eyes at him – just like he remembered from last time. "Okay – whatever. Hey look, there are the baby ducks. They're getting big."

"Mmm hmm. Almost ready to leave home." He couldn't help but think of the fact that Charlotte would be eighteen this year. She would probably have been ready to go off to college. He wondered if he and Angela would have had any more children. They'd wanted at least one more."

"So, you finally got him?" Charlotte said, out of the blue.

"By him you mean -?"

"Red John of course. It took you long enough."

"Ten years", he agreed.

She sighed. "Well, I hope you're all done with that now and you're ready to move on."

"I am", he nodded.

"Good." She got an impish look on her face and peered at him out of the corner of her eyes. "So – Lisbon eh? I kind of figured there was something between the two of you the last time I was here."

"There wasn't anything between us then", he corrected.

"Really? You may not have been actually doing the deed -"

"_Charlotte!"_

"Oh, don't be a prude. I'm old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman, although thinking about my father doing it _is_ rather gross. Still, you may not have been – _together_ – but you were definitely thinking about it and so was she. So, are you getting married?"

"I'm not about to talk about my love life with you", he told her sternly. He felt strange talking to his daughter – or at least his dream version of his daughter – about another woman. It felt wrong somehow.

"If you're worried about Mom, don't be", she told him, seeming to read his mind. "She's happy for you and wanted you to find someone else. She was worried that you had become so obsessed with Red John that you'd forgotten how to live."

He sat silently for a moment, watching as the ducks swam across the little pond. "I think I was", he whispered softly. He then shook himself and turned to face his daughter. "You're sure she's okay with it?"

"Mmm hmm. Positive. She wants you to be happy Dad and so do I."

He gave a wobbly smile. "You don't mind me – being with someone else."

She sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you – I want you to be happy, and Teresa makes you happy. You need to let go of the past Dad. Mom and I are fine – we've left this world and everything in it – everything but you. Once we know you're happy we can let go of that as well."

He felt a terrible pang at that. He didn't _want_ them to let go of him. The thought terrified him. Suddenly he felt Charlotte's hand in his. "Daddy", she said softly, just the way he remembered from when she was little. "Daddy, we'll always be with you – always", she reached out and put her hand over his heart. "Here." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for all you did to bring justice to the man who killed us. You brought us peace – now it's time for you to be at peace. Mom and I will always love you and we know you'll always love us. But it's time for you to live and to love again. We want that for you."

He could feel the tears fall, feeling sad and yet filled with a sense of release so great he didn't quite know what to do. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Charlotte is right, Patrick", another voice spoke to him.

He looked up and there was Angela, kneeling in front of him.

"Hi Patrick", she smiled at him. "You're looking good."

"Angela", he whispered.

"Yes it's me. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to know you were doing well and that you were happy."

He rubbed the tears from his cheeks and leaned forward. He wanted to take her into his arms – he'd missed her so much. At the same time he hesitated, thinking of Teresa and his new life. He was confused, and didn't know what to do.

"It's okay", she smiled. "I'm gone Patrick. I know how much you loved me and that you were faithful – for much too long after I was gone", she smiled. "Although I want you to know how much that meant to me. But as our daughter has said – it's time for you to love again. Don't be sad and don't feel guilty. Charlotte and I are just fine – we're happy and now we want you to be happy. Please love Teresa as much as you did me and make a wonderful life with her. You're a good man, a wonderful man. So let go of your guilt and just love her."

"Angela", he whispered again. "I – I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. You've shown me over and over how much you loved me and I've watched you become a better man over the years. I'm so proud of who you are Patrick and I'd like to think that some of that was because of me – of Charlotte and me."

"It was", he nodded.

"And because of Teresa and your friends." She reached out and gently touched his hand. "You'll always have my love Patrick – but take that love and let it replace the guilt and the fear in your heart so that you can fully love Teresa. You both deserve it."

"And so you can love my little brother or sister too", Charlotte grinned.

"You – you know."

"Mmm hmm", she nodded. Angela also smiled and nodded. "We know. And we know that everything is going to be fine. You're going to have another beautiful family Dad – so don't screw it up."

He laughed, although he also felt like crying. "I'll try not to", he told her. "I think I did a pretty good job with you – at least your mother and I did."

"Yes, you did. You were a great father and I love you so much." Charlotte stood and stepped away. She was soon joined by Angela. "We have to go now but you're going to be okay Dad. I love you", she repeated.

"I'll always love you Patrick", Angela smiled at him. "Now get back to your new life. It will be a beautiful one."

He watched as Angela took Charlotte's hand, just as she had done when Charlotte was a tiny girl. He had a moment of intense pain as they walked away from him but he could feel it slowly fade as they grew farther away. Just as they were almost out of sight they both turned and waved to him. He lifted his hand and gave a small wave back. Both of them were then gone and he knew he would never see either of them again.

* * *

"Patrick_. Patrick, Jane!"_

"Hmm?" he started awake. "What?" he breathed, panicked. "What is it?"

"Jane – are you okay?" Teresa was leaning over him, a worried look on her face.

"Huh? What?" He felt totally disoriented and it took him a moment to realize he was in bed and it was still dark. "Sorry – what happened?"

"You – Jane, you were crying."

He peered at her a moment, still confused. He then lifted his hand to his cheek – which was wet with tears. He dropped the hand and licked his lips, unsure what to say.

"I'm sorry", he breathed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That doesn't matter – I'm just worried. Is everything all right?"

He pushed himself up, trying to clear his mind. It took a few seconds but finally he turned to Teresa. "I think – I think everything is better than all right", he told her. "It's – good."

She frowned at him, looking thoroughly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head slightly and then leaned over and pulled her to him. "I love you Teresa", he said softly, "and I want to live with you."

"I love you too", she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And I hate to tell you but you already _are_ living with me."

"I know", he grinned. "But I didn't mean just live in the same house, I meant _live_ Teresa – I want to live with you and love you and marry you and have babies with you and – and everything."

She laughed softly. "Where is this coming from Jane?"

He smiled again. "From Angela and Charlotte and me."

"What?" her brows crinkled.

"You'll think I'm crazy – in fact _I_ think I'm crazy, but I know it's okay for me to move on with my life. For the first time I think – I know – that it's good. I'll always love Angela and Charlotte – but that doesn't mean I can't love you as much and our child as much and I'm going to be happy, _we're_ going to be happy."

He suddenly slid down onto the bed, pulling Teresa down after him so that she was lying across his chest. He put his fingers through her hair and leaned down and kissed her. "I love you Teresa", he said again.

She had no idea what had happened, or where this was all coming from, but at this moment she didn't care. She could feel the happiness inside her grow and she returned his kiss with passion.

"Love me Teresa", he said softly.

"I do."

He smiled. "I know – but I mean _love_ me – here, now."

"Oh." She lifted her head and looked at him – at the joy in his face, at the crooked but amazing smile, and at the light in his eyes and she smiled. She then leaned down and placed her lips on his, murmuring "only if you'll love me right back."

And she did – and he did.

* * *

"You're looking happy this morning", Cho informed her as she walked in to her desk.

"I am", she smiled. "It's a good day."

"Should I ask why?"

She thought for a second. "Probably not."

"Okay", he nodded and returned to work. After a few minutes he looked up again. "Have you talked to Michelle?"

"Who? Oh, you mean Agent Vega?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Uh, not really", Teresa admitted. She'd been avoiding the woman, but knew that couldn't really continue.

"She's pretty decent once you get to know her", her fellow agent said. "You should try."

Teresa sighed. "I know. It's just that she's so damned arrogant!"

"I didn't think you had trouble with that", he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at the friend and co-worker who always said it like it was. "No, I guess I usually don't. But – she hurt him terribly."

"She didn't mean to."

"I know. It still doesn't mean I can just let it go."

"Jane has."

"Mmm – I guess. Oh hell – maybe he's just a better person than me."

"He's not", Cho shook his head. "It's just easier to forgive a person who's hurt you than a person who's hurt someone you love."

"Yeah, that's the truth." She sighed again. "I'll talk to her."

"Good."

Just then Jane walked in and made his way immediately to his couch. He was whistling as he walked, something Cho had rarely ever heard before. Obviously Jane was in as good a mood as Teresa. He _really_ didn't want to know why.

"Morning Cho", Jane called over. "How are things?"

"Good. Abbott stuck his head out and said he wanted to see us in a little while. I think we caught another case."

Jane let out a small groan. "I hope it's more interesting this time. I must say, the caliber of crimes we've been getting has definitely gone down hill."

"Well, you'll have to talk to Abbott about that", Teresa said acerbically. "Maybe you can convince him to talk to the criminals about upping their games."

"Hmm, that's an idea."

"A really bad one", Cho interjected. "I think you have enough on your plate already."

"Yeah, I guess so", Jane grinned. "And soon I'll be a Daddy again and then I'll _really_ have enough on my plate."

Teresa and Cho both looked at him in wonder, never having heard him quite so open about impending fatherhood.

Sheesh, thought Cho – whatever had happened had certainly put him in a good mood.

"Yes you will", Teresa agreed, with an impish grin. "He's going to be on diaper duty", she informed everyone.

"_Diapers_! A total waste of my talent."

"I don't know Jane – I think you'll be very good at changing diapers", Teresa informed him. "And since you won't be able to feed the baby, you'll have to do _something_."

"I'll tell it stories about its mother – the fierce FBI agent who always gets her man – or woman."

"I think that's the Mounties, not the FBI."

"Pfft", he made a rude noise. "We always get our – person too."

Michelle walked into the office in the midst of the conversation. Wylie was looking on, a grin on his face, but wasn't speaking. The others all looked as if they were happy and they certainly seemed to be joking around. She wondered briefly if she should head back and grab a coffee so as not to put a damper on the group.

"Hey Vega", Patrick shouted, waving her over. He'd effectively put a stop to any escape. With a sigh, and a wary look at Lisbon, she headed over.

"So – do you think I should have to change all the diapers on my kid?" Jane asked.

Vega could feel her stomach drop. The last thing she wanted to discuss was Jane's baby – not after the fiasco that had been the card. Still, everyone was looking at her expectantly. "Uh – yes", she said, grimacing slightly. "Since you can't _feed_ the baby, the least you can do is change its diapers."

"See! I told you", Teresa said. "And Michelle agrees with me. It's diaper duty Patrick."

"That's only because you guys ganged up together. And we can't feed the baby even if we wanted to since we don't come equipped with the same", he waved his hand around.

"Yes Jane – with what?" Teresa grinned.

He rolled his eyes and sat back on his couch. "Cho, it's impossible to say or do anything when women start ganging up on you."

"Indeed." Cho agreed.

Pretty soon they all got to work, except for Jane, who dozed on the couch, and Michelle, who headed over to Teresa's desk.

"Uh Agent Lisbon, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course." She followed the younger woman into the conference room. Jane hadn't appeared to wake up, but Lisbon knew better. He was very aware of this meeting.

"What can I do for you Agent Vega?" Teresa asked.

"I – nothing. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about everything. I didn't mean to hurt Jane – I would never do that. And – I know I was horrible to him at the beginning and I promise I'll change and treat him with respect."

Teresa nodded. "Yes, you will", she agreed. Finally, after an uncomfortable few seconds she sighed and pulled out a chair. Sitting down she looked at Vega. "Look, I know you're smart and you did extremely well at the academy, but the real world is different. If you're going to be successful at this job you're going to have to learn to _not _make assumptions about people. And you're going to have to do your homework."

Vega grimaced. "Yeah – I heard that message loud and clear."

"Yes – well, we all do crazy things at times – hell, if you're Jane you do them daily – and we're pretty good at forgiving those. Just – remember that Jane is smart and he does care about his teammates, even if, at times, he doesn't seem to."

"I realized that after I gave him that stupid card. When he took me to the pond. It was kind of him."

"Mmm – he's a very kind man."

"Yes", Vega suddenly smiled. "He is. You're very lucky."

Teresa smiled back. "Yes, I am."

* * *

"Everything okay between you and Vega?" Patrick asked on the way home that evening.

"Mmm hmm", she answered. "We still have a ways to go before we could be friends, but we're on track to have a good working relationship."

"Excellent", he smiled. He leaned over and closed his eyes. They were almost home before he spoke again. "So, what do you think about Merlin?"

"The Magician?" she asked, her face a picture of total confusion.

"No silly – the name. For our baby."


	27. Of Mothers and Sons

She was nervous as they walked up the short flight of stairs. She didn't know what to expect, although Patrick had assured her that it was going to be okay.

"You're sure they won't mind me being here?" she asked, probably for the fourth or fifth time.

"I'm sure Teresa. They _invited_ you. Carl's wife is coming too and I think Marissa is bringing her boyfriend. I told you, it's the last night so it's going to be a short meeting and then we're going out for pizza afterward for a bit of a celebration.

At first she'd thought it a bit strange that they'd be celebrating, but upon reflection had realized it was totally appropriate. They'd made it through what had to have been an incredibly painful and difficult time and, according to Jane, they were all better for it.

"Even Andrea", he'd told her softly. "She's finally getting some help and that's good."

She'd kissed him for that – and for the fact that _he'd_ made it through all the sessions. And the group had done him good. He was more at peace than she'd ever seen him and seemed to be learning to accept the fdthings that had happened. Of course she knew that their relationship had also helped.

"Here we are", he smiled and opened the door for her. "Go on. No one will bite, I promise."

The evening turned out to be a lot of fun. She enjoyed meeting the other couples. Although they spent the first little while talking over some of the things they'd dealt with, for the most part the evening was full of laughter and teasing.

She couldn't help but watch Jane as the celebration wore on. She'd never quite seen him like this with anyone else. He was light-hearted and talkative – but not in his usual way. It took her a while, but finally she realized. He _trusted_ these people – not in the same way he trusted his team, but emotionally. He felt like he could be himself in front of this group of people – and it surprised her.

He was charming and funny – like he usually was – but he also allowed himself to be vulnerable and that was something he'd only ever been to her. It made her like these people even more.

By the end of the evening she'd made friends with a few of the people and they'd already planned to get together socially. One of the women had asked about her pregnancy and had told her about her husband's fears of having another child. She'd agreed to meet Stephanie for coffee and give her what insights she could.

The only dark spot had been when they'd mentioned Andrea. Joe and Tamika had gone with her to the hospital that night and had checked in on her since then.

"She's doing better", Tamika told them. "They have her on medication and her sister is with her. She's going to be going home with her in a few days. She said to say hi and to tell you all the group really helped – she just needed some extra help."

Jane looked down the entire time Tamika spoke and Teresa knew he still felt badly about the woman. She reached out and took his hand – which won her a smile. "She'll be okay", she told him.

He nodded. "I hope so."

As they were ready to leave that evening Carl approached them. He held out his hand and shook Jane's. "Thank you Patrick. It was wonderful having you in our group. You have real insight into people."

Jane shrugged, looking rather embarrassed, which amused Teresa. It was something she'd rarely seen on him.

"You know", Carl continued, "I think you'd make a great facilitator. Would you consider doing the training and taking on a group in the future."

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Teresa watched him and suddenly was transported back to that first day that Jane had walked into the precinct. He'd been so lost and wounded, so hesitant and unsure of himself. But discovering that he was good at something, at solving crimes, had restored some of his lost self-confidence. She snorted softly _some?_ He was uber-confident about his ability to solve crimes. But in other ways she knew he was still unsure of himself and she could see all of that written on his face.

"But – uh – I'm not – I mean, I'm still dealing with stuff", he blurted.

"So am I", Carl said calmly. "This isn't like the flu Patrick. You don't wake up one day and say, I'm all better. It's a journey that we all travel. There are still days I don't feel like getting out of bed. But I can tell you one thing, that since doing these groups – not just as a participant, but as a leader, I've moved farther on that journey. The greatest healing I've experienced has been in sharing my story with others. Look, I'm not trying to pressure you – it's your decision. But I think you'd be great at it. I know you say you're not psychic and I respect that, but you _do_ have a gift for reading and understanding people, and that helps in this kind of work. So, just think about it. They have training sessions twice a year and the next one's starting in a month."

Jane was quiet on the way home that night and Teresa was sure he was thinking about what Carl had said. "I think you'd be great at it", was all she said.

* * *

Life settled into a rather calm but contented time after that. Teresa was feeling good and Jane seemed to be handling everything well. He was his old self on cases – at least from what Cho told her – and it continued to drive Vega up the wall. Still, she and Jane had worked out some kind of truce. Jane tried to restrain himself slightly, at least when she was around, and she refrained from criticizing his lack of protocol. And Jane got the front seat, which meant he was happy and didn't design ways to torment the young agent.

Their case close rate was good – not quite as good as when Teresa was in the field, but good enough to keep the team going. Abbott was convinced it wasn't just Lisbon's skills that made a difference, but the fact that Jane simply worked better when she was there.

Jane himself was happy. He'd never thought he would ever say that again, but it was true. He still had moments of doubt and of fear, but for the most part he could feel himself move forward into his new life.

He and Teresa still had episodes of tension and disagreement. It was what added spice to their relationship and was simply a continuation of how they'd always been together. Of course now they could make up in new, fun ways. He smiled as he thought of some of those ways.

He loved it when she got irritated with him. He loved the little frown she got, or the way she said _Jane_. It brought back fond memories of all the years they'd served together. He didn't want to lose any of that, and so made it a point to do something he knew would drive her just crazy enough to get after him.

She knew what he was doing, of course, and went along with it for much the same reason. She didn't want to lose _them_ – the them that had worked together so successfully for so many years. She missed being out in the field with him, but still managed to keep an eye on what he was doing and give him a hard time for some of his wilder schemes.

As much as they worked to keep things the same, there were many new things they were discovering about one another. This part of their relationship was scary and fun and surprising. It was strange, really. They had a relationship that was equal parts comfort and familiarity, and brand new and exciting.

The physical was new – and exhilarating – and wonderful. Jane proved to be an exceptional and loving partner. He was incredibly romantic – something she would never have expected. Oh, she knew he could do sweet things (she thought of the pony) but not that he had such a well-developed sense of romance. She would often find little notes in her desk or books, flowers had a way of appearing out of nowhere and then there were the impromptu dinners out, or walks by the beach. What made it all so charming is he was able to surprise her every time. He was a real magician when it came to romance.

But what she liked as much, if not more than the romance, was the humor. He made life _fun._ She'd worried, when they'd first taken the step towards a relationship, that life with Patrick would be intense. He had been that way since she'd known him. She was only now realizing that much of that was because of his obsession with Red John. Having let that go, he was much more ready to live life as it came.

He laughed easily now – and made her laugh. He teased her and joked with her and found the absurdity in so many things. Mealtimes became fun, shopping and cooking and cleaning became fun – and hell, even sex was fun.

It suddenly hit her that her decision to get up out of her seat, walk down the aisle and off of that plane, was the best one she'd ever made in her life.

* * *

"Hey, you, how are you doing?" Patrick and the team had been working a difficult case all week and it was late by the time he'd made it home. She was already in bed, propped up reading a book.

"I'm fine", she replied, putting the book down and lifting up her arms for a hug. "How about you? You must be exhausted."

"Mmm." He sat on the bed and buried his face in her shoulder. "Yeah. Everything okay here?"

"Everything's fine. Stephanie called and wanted to know if we'd like to come for dinner this Saturday."

"Sounds good", he sighed, relaxing into her.

It was only as she realized that he was falling asleep that she spoke. "Patrick, as much as I like having you here, I think you should get your clothes off before going to sleep."

"Hmm?" He sat up, blinking wearily. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. We ordered pizza in after we got back." He stood up and slowly stripped off his clothes. Walking to the bathroom, completely naked, she couldn't help but admire him. He turned around and gave her a naughty grin before disappearing. She grinned and returned to her book.

A few minutes later he returned and climbed into bed and immediately moved over and cuddled up with her. "Mmm – much better."

She laughed and moved down until she could lie fully beside him. Putting her arms around him she pulled him to her. "Definitely much better."

"How's Harry?" he asked, rubbing her belly.

"As in 'Houdini' I suppose", she sighed.

"It's a good name!"

"Yes, but Harry Jane doesn't have much of a ring. And what if it's a girl?"

He tensed slightly, but then relaxed. "How about Euphonia?"

"Patrick?"

"No? Gertrude?"

"_Patrick_?"

"What?" he asked sharply and rolled over so that he was lying on his back.

"What is it?"

He sighed and after a second turned to her again. "Sorry – it's just -"

"You're having trouble with the idea of a girl?"

"Yeah, a bit. I know it's silly, but I keep getting this feeling that it would be a betrayal."

"Of Charlotte?"

"Mmm hmm." He laughed softly, although his breath hitched slightly. "I told you it's silly."

"No, it's not silly at all. I completely understand. I wish I could do something about it but I'm afraid I can't. Do you – should we find out the sex of the baby so you're better prepared?"

"I don't know. I've thought about it but then I think it would be better to wait until it's born." He pushed himself up until he was looking down at Teresa. "I know that when I see the baby, I'll fall in love. I'm just afraid that if I know now I'll – worry."

She nodded and reached up and touched his face gently. "Just let me know what I can do, okay?"

"What you can do is look after yourself and that baby – and know that I love you very, very much." With a soft kiss to her lips he again lay back. "How about David? It's a nice name."

She was silent for a moment. "Copperfield, right?"

He smiled and closed his eyes.

* * *

He was holding her loosely, his arms draped around her waist and one leg thrown over hers. She was sleeping peacefully and he often liked to lie there and simply watch her. He smiled as his eyes perused her features, familiar – but also newly discovered. He was tempted to reach out and trace the lines and planes of her face, but didn't want to disturb her. She needed her rest as she grew their child.

Thinking of that child he reached his hand out and very gently placed it on her belly. It was strange how at the beginning he was terrified to even _think_ of the baby growing there. Now he was fascinated by it and felt like he could touch her all day.

He held his hand there, thinking about what it was going to be like to have a child again. It had been so long – he could barely remember all the little - whoa! What was that?

He looked down at his hand. He'd felt something. He stayed perfectly quiet, not daring to move, when he felt it again. It was the baby moving – and he could feel it. A huge smile practically cracked his face in two. It was one of the most amazing things he'd ever felt.

"Hi baby", he whispered. "This is your daddy." There was a bump on his hand – just as if the baby was acknowledging him. He continued to whisper to it – telling the baby things about the world and about its mommy. "You are so lucky little one", he told it. "Your mommy is amazing and she's going to love you so much. And so am I." There was a faint tickle in his hand as again the baby moved.

He lay there for what seemed forever, until eventually the movement slowed and stopped. He figured the baby must have gone to sleep. He smiled again, at the miracle that had just taken place.

Soon after he drew his hand away and lay there thinking about the child. He was so happy and yet still so frightened. He knew there were no assurances – nothing that could prevent something happening again to his family. Still, it was a done deal and he just had to learn to live with the fear.

He was sitting on a bench beside a children's playground, watching the various kids as they climbed all over the equipment. His eyes were drawn to a little girl, not more than three, with curly dark hair. She turned and laughed at another child – a boy a couple of years older. It was then that he saw that her eyes were a deep green.

The little boy reached out and took her hand and helped her climb onto a small platform. She then reached up and kissed his cheek. It was only then that Patrick really noticed the boy. He had blond hair and reminded him of someone, although he couldn't quite place who it was.

He watched for a long time as the two children played and laughed. At one point the boy pushed the little girl on the swing and she giggled and screamed out 'fathter, fathter'. He couldn't help but laugh himself at her sweet lisp and at the obvious love she had for the little boy.

He didn't know who they were, although he was filled with joy watching them. He wanted to get up and go over to them, but was afraid of frightening them. He glanced around, sure he'd see an adult watching – a mother or father or nanny.

Strangely, he was the only adult there. He frowned, thinking that was not good. These children were too young to be on their own. He stood slowly, continuing to look around, when suddenly a small body plowed into him.

"Daddy, Daddy, did you's see me on da swing?"

He looked down in shock at the little girl – and saw Lisbon's eyes looking back at him.

"I swung her sooo high Daddy." This time it was the little boy speaking to him – a little boy with _his_ eyes. No wonder he'd recognized him. He smiled – the two children were _his_ – his and Teresa's. It was obvious when he looked at them.

He laughed and grabbed the little girl and swung her up high. He then knelt down and put his arm around the boy. "You did good", he told him. "You watched out for your sister."

"Of course", the boy nodded solemnly. "I promised you and Mommy I would."

"Yes, you did", he agreed, although in reality he had no idea.

"And everything will be okay Daddy", the little boy smiled. "I promise."

He frowned, wondering at the words, when suddenly he heard another voice. He glanced up and there was Teresa, walking towards them with a smile. He stood slowly, his one arm holding the little girl, the other around his son, and smiled back at her. As she reached them everything slowly faded, although the feeling of joy remained.

* * *

"Hey", Teresa's voice brought him back to reality – the reality of morning, in bed, not in a playground. He blinked again and stretched.

"What time is it?" he asked blearily.

"Almost 7:00", she told him. "I let you sleep in a bit, although it looks like you had a good night."

"I did", he suddenly smiled and grabbed her, pulling her down to the bed.

"Hey", she said again, laughing. "What's this for?"

"Did I ever tell you I love you Teresa Lisbon?"

"Yes you have", she nodded, "although a girl can never hear it too many times."

"Good, because I plan to tell you lots and lots and lots more."

"What makes you so happy this morning?" she asked, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Mmm – just a really good dream", he told her.

"You and your dreams", she shook her head. "What was it this time?"

He grinned. "Oh – nothing really – just, something happy."

"Happy eh?" She looked at him, her expression suddenly growing serious. "You seem to be having more of these dreams lately. Have you always had them?"

He felt something strange at her question, although he tried to shake it off. He was not about to lose the warm feeling he'd woken up with. He shrugged. "I don't know – maybe when I was younger."

"How much younger?" she wanted to know, her eyebrow raised.

"Why are you suddenly so interested in my dreams? Everybody dreams Teresa."

"I know, it's just – it seems like it's happening more and more, although at least now you're waking up happy. So how much younger?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't know – when I was a kid I guess."

"Really? That long ago? When did they stop?"

This time it was Patrick who grew serious. In fact Teresa wanted to kick herself as his expression grew somber. Why had she pushed this when he had been so happy? "It's okay", she told him. "Just ignore me – I guess it's the detective in me, but it really doesn't matter."

Jane wasn't listening but instead thought back to his childhood. Something about Teresa's question had bothered him – it made him start to think about things long buried. He didn't want to uncover them – but now that the suggestion had been planted, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to let it go. He knew himself too well.

"When my mother died", he said softly.

"What?" Jane had never, not once, spoken about his mother. It had been something she had been meaning to ask him about, but had decided they'd had to deal with enough since the beginning of their relationship and so had let it go. She was therefore startled when he mentioned the woman.

"I didn't know you had a mother", she said, half-jokingly.

He gave her a disgusted look. "What? You think I appeared magically from a pea-pod or something? _Everyone_ has a mother Lisbon."

This time she rolled her eyes. "I know that. I just meant – you never talk about her so I assumed she wasn't a part of your life."

"She died when I was eleven", he told her.

"I'm sorry." She reached out and touched him gently. This was something she _could_ understand. She too had lost her mother at a young age. "What happened?"

"She was in an accident", he told her. "It happened at one of the fair grounds where my father was working. They were taking down one of the rides when a cable broke. She happened to be walking by at the time and got hit by a beam. They said she died instantly."

"I'm so sorry", she said again. "How horrible."

"Mmm", he nodded, although his expression wasn't one of sorrow but rather of confusion. There was obviously something about losing his mother that was less than straight forward. The detective part of her, the one she'd just mentioned, was dying of curiosity.

"Do you think it _wasn't_ an accident?" she asked, trying to figure out the source of his puzzlement."

"Hmm? What? Oh – no, I'm sure it was. There was never any question about that. The police did a lengthy investigation and determined it was simply wear and tear, not sabotage. The fair owner was sighted and fined. Of course my father went through the money in a matter of months."

"So if it wasn't that, why are you looking so - ?"

"So – what?" he turned and looked at her, the confusion now focused on her.

"I don't know – you look as if something is puzzling you."

"Really?" His expression cleared, although she was sure he did that intentionally and that something was still bothering him. "The only thing that is puzzling me is why am I lying here when we're going to be late for work. I'm also hungry." He pushed aside the covers, leaned over and gave her a kiss, and then propelled himself out of bed. "Have you showered?" he called as he headed towards the bathroom.

"Yes", she watched him go, a small frown on her face. Something was going on in that complex and often confusing mind of his. She hoped it wasn't anything bad.

It wasn't bad – at least Jane didn't think so – although it was unsettling. He rarely thought about his mother, which was sad, he realized. He'd loved her dearly. She had been the steady one in their family and had given him and his father unconditional love. Although Alex Jane had always been a con-man and a show-man, he hadn't been bad – at least until Jane's mother had died. Elizabeth Jane had loved her husband, but had known what he was like and had done everything she could to keep him as much on the straight and narrow as she could.

Jane thought back to the wonderful times he'd had with his Mom – sitting in their trailer, working on his homework; helping her bake cookies and listening to her stories. One of the most precious memories was sitting down with her and sharing a cup of tea. As a child she'd put lots of milk and honey into it and it had usually been accompanied by a cookie. She'd explained to him that 'tea will always help whatever ails you'. He had never met his grandparents, but had known they were from England, so he was sure that's where his mother's – and eventually his – love of tea had come.

As he showered he allowed the memories of his mother to return. He could still smell her scent – a combination of vanilla and lavender. He remembered her gentle touch – which could turn very firm when he was naughty. He thought of the few times he'd received a swat on the backside and couldn't help but grin. He'd been a handful even as a young boy. He wondered briefly if his son – he thought of the playground – would be the same.

But there was something else – something there that he'd blocked out. He knew it was somewhere in his memory palace, but he knew he had hidden it really well. He was also unsure as to whether he wanted to find it. For some reason he was pretty sure it would change his life.

And he liked his life just the way it was. With a determined frown he turned off the water and began to towel himself dry. Why ruin a good thing with old, buried memories; memories that couldn't possibly make things better than they were right now?


	28. Of Warnings and Whump

**_So - anyone who knows my writing knows that I love two things: romance and whump. I feel like there is too little Jane/Teresa whump out there, so decided to add some in this story. Sorry to those of you who don't like it but I couldn't help myself._**

**_A huge bouquet of balloons to my faithful and new reviewers. As long as they keep coming, the faster I'll write. Thank you!_**

_Warning! Your computer will shut down in ten minutes. Save your work now._

"What the heck?" Teresa stared at her computer screen, wondering what was going on. She hit a couple of keys but the message remained. It was only after she hit _save_ that the message disappeared from her screen.

She wished Wylie was here so that she could ask him what had just happened, but he was with Jane, Cho, Vega and Abbott working on a kidnapping case in Memphis. Abbott had claimed he needed a 'techy' on the job, but she figured it was more of a reward for the young computer genius after his great work on the last couple of cases.

She was happy for the young man, but hated the fact that everyone was gone and she was forced to stay behind. And right now she _really _wished someone was here to tell her what was wrong with her computer.

She kept typing, hoping to get her report done today. There was really no reason it had to be done so quickly – no reason except her own driven nature.

_Your computer will shut down in five minutes. If you haven't saved your work, do it now Lisbon._

Okay, this was ridiculous. She looked around the room but no one was looking at her. This had to be a joke. She growled at her machine, hit save again and then started typing furiously.

_This is your one minute warning. I'm serious Lisbon – it's time to close your computer and go home!_

"Aaargh!" she screamed. That made people turn and look at her although it was attention she had rather not have. "Sorry", she smiled at the few who looked concerned. "Computer problem." She got a lot of nods and sympathetic looks for that. Everyone had been there at one time or another.

Except this was different. This was a computer that was out to get her personally, that had a vendetta against her.

_The computer is shutting down now. You will not be able to access it again until 8:00 am tomorrow morning. Go home, east a healthy supper and put your feet up. Relax Lisbon. There's lots of time for reports. LOOK AFTER YOURSELF. _

Of course she knew who was responsible for this, even if he couldn't have done the programming by himself. "Jane", she whispered. "You corrupted Wylie, didn't you?" Since the man wasn't here to defend himself, Teresa sighed and began to pack up her things for the day. She was pretty sure that no one on staff could fix the damn computer so she had might as well go home.

By the time she got home she was laughing. Leave it to Jane! The man knew her too well and had obviously conned Wylie into helping him ensure she didn't overdo things. She shook her head – wondering what would have happened if she really had needed her machine. She was definitely going to have to get back at the man. She couldn't let him think that he could control her to this extent.

She'd barely gotten into the house and put her things away when her doorbell rang. Wondering who could be visiting at 6:00 pm, she answered the door, only to find a delivery man standing there.

"Here you go miss", he held out a bag. "Delivery for Teresa Lisbon."

"What? Yeah that's -" But she was speaking to the wind as the man turned and quickly headed back to his car. With a sigh she turned and re-entered her house.

Whatever was in the bag smelt heavenly. She got to the kitchen and opened it, only to find a full meal of healthy food. There was a card attached to it. When she opened it all it said was _EAT!_ Jane had struck again.

Carting the bag of food back to the kitchen Teresa couldn't help but laugh again. She knew she should be peeved at his taking over her life, but right now it just felt good to have someone who cared about her. She rubbed her belly. "Your daddy's quite a guy kiddo."

* * *

"I look like a hippopotamus", she complained the following week, looking at her seven-month pregnant body in profile.

"No you don't", he told her mildly. He considered her seriously for a moment. "You look more like a -"

"Don't say it!" she glared. "If you value your life you won't say it."

"I was just going to say you look like a beautiful Madonna", he told her calmly. The twinkle in his eyes told her he had been about to say something else but had thought better of it when he realized there was nothing more dangerous than an angry Lisbon with a gun. He valued his life.

She narrowed her eyes. "That's not what you were going to say."

He approached her and drew her to him. "Oh ye of little faith." He leaned back and gave her a quick kiss. "And it's completely true. With your dark hair you look just like some of those medieval pictures of the Madonna with child. You're gorgeous."

This time she couldn't fault him. There was too much sincerity in his words and his eyes showed that he was perfectly serious. She melted into him, allowing him to hold her for a moment. Finally she sighed. "Time to go."

He kissed her one more time and gave her a hug. "You're going too hard", he told her. "You need to rest."

"I _do_ rest. I'm stuck in the office all day at my desk. What I need is a change of scene!"

"Why don't we go away for the weekend", he suggested. "We could go to a little bed and breakfast somewhere and just relax."

"Sounds nice", she smiled. This was one of the things she loved about Jane – he could be spontaneous like this and always seemed to know what she needed. Now that he was no longer focused on finding a serial killer, he seemed to concentrate his amazing powers of observation and intuition on her. She loved it – at least most of the time.

"Good, I'll make the reservations. Now Ms. Lisbon – time to go to work."

* * *

Jane parked in the FBI lot and he and Teresa headed towards the building. He turned to make a casual comment to her when they heard a shout behind them.

Both of them turned, to see Randall Eckert standing in the parking lot, a gun in his hand. "You destroyed my life you bastard!" he yelled. "Now I'm gonna destroy yours!"

Jason Eckert had been convicted of the rape and murder of Christina Scott and was awaiting sentencing. The prosecutor was trying for the death penalty. His father, Randall, was awaiting trial on charges of conspiracy but was presently out on bail.

"I'm gonna make you suffer Jane", he shouted. "I'm gonna take someone you love away from you and see how you like it!" He lifted the gun and pointed it directly at Teresa.

In that moment a myriad of things passed through Patrick's mind. He thought of the many times that Teresa had protected him in just this situation. He thought of his cowardice, of running to hide behind her or one of his teammates when threatened with violence or death. He thought of the many times he _hadn't_ come through for her. – and then he thought of the fact that to lose Teresa and his child now would be the end of him. He couldn't – and wouldn't – survive this again.

He watched as if everything was in slow motion. Out of the corner of his eye he saw other agents converging on Eckert, their guns drawn. He saw Teresa's face, white with shock and fear and he saw Eckert begin to squeeze the trigger.

Without another thought he pushed Teresa to the side, praying that he wouldn't harm her or the baby, but knowing this was better than her getting shot.

He heard the sound of the gun firing, although strangely it seemed muffled. He heard the impact – felt it swing him around and knock him to the ground. He heard a scream and shouts and then other shots - but strangely he felt no pain. Things continued to sound muffled and to seem unreal, distant. All he cared about, all he needed was to know that Teresa and his child were okay.

He had to ask. He had to speak, to tell them he needed to know, but for some reason he couldn't speak. He blinked slowly, his eyes losing focus. He thought he saw someone leaning over him, but that person soon disappeared. A moment later it was replaced by another face – a familiar face, although he couldn't remember who it was. His eyes slowly began to close. Please, wouldn't someone tell him?

"_Jane_! _Jane_!" Cho knelt beside the consultant, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. "Did someone call 911?" he yelled.

"Yes", someone called in response. "The ambulance is on its way."

"Jane, stay with me. Come on man – keep your eyes open. The ambulance is coming and you'll be fine. Come_ on_! _JANE!_"

Jane managed to open his eyes although he didn't know what was happening. He just wanted someone to tell him that Teresa was safe. "Plee –ease", he whispered.

"What is it?" Cho leaned forward, trying to hear. "What Jane? Come on – talk to me."

"Li –" he gasped. The numbness was wearing off and the pain was beginning. He could feel tears gather in his eyes – mostly from the pain of not knowing. "Plee –ease", he whispered again.

Cho suddenly got it! He glanced over to where some people were helping Lisbon. She looked shaken up, but otherwise okay. In fact she was desperately trying to get to Jane but people were holding her back, telling her to take it easy.

"She's fine Jane – Teresa is fine and so is the baby."

He gasped again, this time from relief. He could sleep now – his wife and child were fine. This time he'd saved them. He felt a sense of peace overtake him. Maybe in giving his life to save theirs he had finally redeemed himself.

"Jane! Don't you dare die on me or Lisbon is going to have my ass on a plate. _Open your eyes damn it!_"

Was that Cho? Jane frowned slightly. He didn't think he'd ever heard the man swear before – or get angry for that matter. He forced his eyes open, although the pain was getting so bad all he wanted to do was pass out. Still, an upset Cho was rare enough he had to see.

"There you go Jane – just stay with me, okay. The ambulance is almost here."

Ambulance? Why did they need an ambulance? Was someone hurt? Oh god – Teresa. "Ter -"

"She's fine Jane", Cho said again. "In fact – here she is." He moved slightly, allowing a clearly shocked Lisbon to kneel on the ground beside Jane.

"Oh God – Jane! What did you do?" she cried. She looked at the blood seeping from his chest – so much blood, _too_ much blood. "Why did you do it Patrick? Why?" she cried.

"Save you – baby", he gasped, although he tried to smile.

She sobbed and took his hand. "Where is that god-damned ambulance!"

As if in answer to her prayer, the sound of a siren suddenly split the morning air. The emergency vehicle screeched to a halt just feet away and an EMT jumped out and raced to the man lying on the ground. He was quickly followed by two others carrying equipment.

"What happened?" he asked quickly.

"Gunshot wound to the chest", Cho answered. "I tried to stop the bleeding, without much luck."

The EMT nodded and, working in concert with the other two, quickly assessed and began triaging the patient. Within a couple of minutes they had Jane hooked up to an IV, a bandage on his wound and they were lifting him to a gurney.

"You'll have to follow", one of the men called as they hurried to their vehicle. "I'm afraid we don't have room."

"Come on Lisbon – I'll drive you." She nodded but seemed unable to stand. It was Abbott who carefully lifted her from the pavement and gently walked her to Cho's car. "We'll follow", he told the Korean agent. "She needs to get checked out too. She had a nasty fall."

Cho nodded. "I'll make sure. Thanks." He quickly got behind the wheel as Abbott helped Teresa in to the passenger seat and buckled her in. With a nod the chief agent closed the door and watched as the car streaked away.

Cho barely noticed that his hands were covered in Jane's blood although even if he had he wouldn't have cared at this moment, more concerned with the woman beside him. "You okay?"

"No", she answered softly.

"The baby?" Cho asked worriedly.

"No – no, I'm fine– just a bit bruised and scraped. I meant – oh God Cho, what if he dies? He can't die!" she sobbed.

"Jane's tough", he told her. "Remember when he drowned? They were able to bring him back. And he drank the Belladonna tea – it was enough to kill anyone else, but he was fine. He's like a cat."

"But there was so much blood", she cried. "He looked – Cho, he looked like the pictures of Red Johns victims – with blood all over his chest."

"He wasn't stabbed Teresa – it wasn't like Red John at all. I know this is hard but he'll be okay!"

They arrived at the hospital and were met by a gurney. Although Teresa protested, Cho insisted that she let the emergency staff check her out carefully. "Jane will have my butt if I let anything happen to you or the baby", he told her. "Just do it for him if for nothing else."

That got her and she nodded, allowing the orderly to wheel her away. "Find out how he is and come tell me" she called out.

"I will, don't worry."

Of course that was easier said then done. The emergency nurse knew nothing, other than the fact that someone had just been wheeled in. And to find someone else – _anyone _else with news seemed impossible. It wasn't until he saw a Chaplin walk by that he could even get anyone's attention.

"Father?" he asked as the priest walked by.

"Yes, I'm Father Vincent. Can I help you?"

"I'm trying to find out some information about a patient who was just bought in with a gunshot wound. His name is Patrick Jane. His wife is pregnant and is frantic to find out what's happening." Cho figured that a bit of creative license was called for at a time like this. He figured that 'wife' would get more attention than 'girlfriend'.

"I'll check for you", the priest told him. "Just wait here."

He returned a few minutes later, a serious look on his face. "I spoke with one of the nurses. He's still in triage, but they're taking him to surgery as soon as possible. I'm afraid it doesn't look good – they almost lost him once all ready – but they're doing everything they can."

Cho nodded, not surprised. He'd seen how much blood Jane had lost and had known it was bad. "Thank you."

Just then a nurse came out of the ER, a harried look on her face. "Is there a Mr. Cho here?"

"That's me."

"Teresa Lisbon is asking for you. Just follow me."

Cho turned to the priest and again thanked him.

"I'll wait here in case you need me", Father Victor told him. He gave a small smile. "In the meantime I'll pray for Patrick."

"Thanks." Cho made his way back into the emergency department, walking by other curtained off beds. There was a hustle and bustle about the place as nurses, doctors and emergency personnel walked between the various emergency patients and the center desk.

"Teresa?" Cho poked his head around the curtain that the nurse pointed out. She was lying there, monitors hooked up to her stomach. Her face was white and she looked at him with terrified eyes.

"Jane?"

"He's still being triaged although they're about to take him to surgery."

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Cho walked up to the side of the bed and took her hands in his. "He's in rough shape, but they're doing everything they can. You have to have faith Teresa."

She laughed bitterly. "Oh God Cho – why did this have to happen? Everything was so good. We were so happy and now – and now -", she sobbed again.

"Hey", he squeezed her hands. "Don't give up. Jane's obstinate. He's not about to give up, not when he has you." Cho glanced over at the monitor. "Everything okay?"

"Yes", she sniffed. "They're just keeping an eye on me but the doctor said the baby is fine. I just got a bit scraped up when I fell. Cho", her eyes filled with tears. "What am I going to do?"

He reached out at that point, knowing that she needed him. He wrapped his arms around her and spoke soothingly to her, continuing to remind her that Jane was tough, that he had too much to lose to let go, that he'd make it through this. Eventually her tears stopped and she calmed down.

"Hey", he told her. "I met the Chaplin out there, Father Vincent. Did you want to see him? It might help to talk to him."

She nodded slightly, knowing that now, more than ever, she needed to rely on her faith. "I'd like that", she told him, reaching up and grasping her cross.

That instantly brought on the tears again as she remembered Jane's 'cold reading' after he'd almost drowned. He had been correct though – her cross gave her comfort.

Father Victor arrived a few minutes later and Cho excused himself. He left Lisbon praying with the priest. Cho, like Jane, wasn't a believer, but he understood that for many people their faith brought comfort at a time like this.

He wandered out by the desk area. "Excuse me", he asked one of the nurses sitting there. "Is there any word on Patrick Jane? He was brought in a while ago – gunshot wound to the chest."

The nurse nodded and gave him a kind smile. "He was just taken up to surgery", she told him. "They were able to stabilize him. We'll try and keep you and Ms. Lisbon informed as often as we can, but it will probably be quite a few hours until he's out of surgery. You can stay here – we're not too busy tonight so she can stay in the bed as long as we have room."

"Thank you. Uh – if she asks for me can you tell her I've gone to give an update to our co-workers?"

"Sure."

Cho left he emergency ward and walked into the waiting room. Vega, Wylie and Abbott were all sitting there, anxious looks on their faces. Abbott stood up as soon as he saw the serious looking agent approach.

"What's happening? How is he?"

"He's in surgery. It's not good, although they were able to stabilize him. We won't know anything for quite a few hours."

"How's Teresa?" Vega asked.

"She's okay – there's a priest with her now. They're keeping her in Emergency, but I think that's only because it'll be more comfortable for her then sitting in the waiting room. I'll go back in in a few minutes."

Abbott nodded, knowing there was nothing any of them could do but sit and wait – and hope. He thought of the man who he'd started out detesting, and who he had come to like and respect.

When he'd first heard about Jane and then had met him, he'd thought him nothing but a vengeance obsessed con-man – interested only in revenge but lacking any real sense of justice or honor. That impression had intensified when he'd first met the man and for the first little while he'd worked for the FBI.

It had been over the next few weeks and months that he realized that Jane was, in fact, a good man but one who had been damaged, almost beyond repair, to the point that he didn't know quite how to fit in with regular people. Then he'd seen Jane finally realize – or admit, Abbott wasn't quite sure which – how much Teresa meant to him and take the step of telling her.

Although he was still very much a unique individual, over the succeeding months he'd begun to heal in ways Abbott didn't think even Jane realized. He was opening up to people – and actually cared what others thought. It would be a horrible tragedy if he didn't make it, just as he was beginning to live and to love again.

"This is horrible", Vega whispered. She too had grown to respect Jane, if not quite like him yet. Still, he was growing on her and she suspected that it wouldn't take much for her to turn into another one of the people who cared for him – often in spite of himself. She hated that this had happened. It was so unfair.

"What happened to Eckert?" Cho suddenly asked. He'd completely forgotten the man who'd been the cause of this.

"He was shot multiple times and they don't know if he's going to make it. They took him to a different hospital and I haven't heard anything in the last little while. I don't particularly care if he makes it or not and will be angry if he does and Jane -". He stopped for a moment, trying to regain his composure. "If he does survive – well, he'll spend the rest of his life in prison."

Everyone was quiet with nothing left to say. Cho excused himself to make an important phone call, but returned a few minutes later. "I'm going to go check on Teresa."

Father Victor was just leaving as Cho got there. "I'm going to see if there's any word on Patrick, but the fact that we haven't heard is a good sign", he said encouragingly. "I'm also going to go and bring you something to eat and drink." He put us his hand to forestall any objections. "I know you're not hungry, but try and eat, at least a little. It's important that you stay strong. He's going to need you when he's recuperating." With a smile at Cho he gave Lisbon's arm a squeeze and then left.

Teresa's eyes once again filled with tears. She couldn't help but remember Jane constantly telling her she had to eat. "Cho", she cried. Again he took her in his arms and just held her.

The next few hours were hard on everyone, but especially Teresa. She tried to eat a few bites but had to stop when she began to feel sick. She knew she had to think of the baby, but right now all she could do was remember Patrick, covered in his own blood. Each time the memory rose she felt herself become nauseated. The sight and smell of blood was different when it belonged to someone you loved.

She knew that the sight of him lying there, his shirt drenched in red, would forever be a nightmare that would haunt her. At that moment she thought of Jane – and what he must live with. She'd seen pictures of his wife and daughter after they'd been murdered, but she knew a photo could never portray the true horror. She felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought and without warning began to vomit.

Cho instantly called for the nurse and sat with her until she had emptied her stomach.

"I'm sorry", she gasped.

"Hey, don't worry about it." He stood up as the nurse arrived and then left to give Teresa some privacy as the woman helped her clean up."

After a few moments he was told it was okay to come back in. "I'm going to get the doctor and to have him give you something to calm down Teresa", the young nurse told her.

"No", she mumbled. "I don't want anything."

"But we can give you something that's safe for the baby and it will make you feel better."

"No – no, I don't want anything", she insisted. She wouldn't, _couldn't_ take anything, no matter what the nurse said.

"I'll have some chamomile tea", she finally murmured, her voice cracking. "That will settle me down. Please, can I have some tea?"

It was the first time that Cho felt like _he_ was going to lose it. He'd held on, for Teresa's sake, but something about her asking for tea made him want to curse and to shout – and maybe, even though it wasn't manly, to cry.

It was so damned unfair! The last person in the world who deserved _more _pain in his life was Patrick Jane. Hadn't he been through _enough_? "I'll get if for you", he told her, needing to get away for a few minutes so he could compose himself.

He laughed softly – bitterly – as he made his way down the hallway to the cafeteria. Who would have thought that a damned cup of tea would drive him over the edge. If Jane could see him now!

* * *

They'd been there for hours – getting the occasional update that Patrick was still alive, still in surgery. Teresa had calmed down a bit – whether the tea had actually relaxed her or not it was impossible to say, but she did doze a bit. She would awaken every few minutes and check whether there was any news.

The Chaplin came by a few times, offering food, comfort and any information he could glean from the staff. Abbott had come back at one point and had given Teresa a hug and told her to hang on. "He'll make it Teresa – just you watch."

She'd smiled at him, although it was a feeble attempt. She knew that all the reassurances in the world wouldn't change whether Patrick would live – or not – but it did help to have her friends appear so confident around her.

"Grace? Wayne?" she whispered suddenly. "We need to let them know. Oh God – they don't know."

"Yes they do", Cho assured her. "I called them just after they took Jane to surgery. They're on their way."

"Thank you", she said, crumpling again into tears. She couldn't seem to stop. She rubbed her stomach as her baby began to move and the tears continued. Jane should be here. He should be touching her, talking to the baby, telling her to eat, to rest, to take it easy. He needed to tell her he loved her and would never leave her.

"_Jane", _she cried out.

Cho felt the tears gather in his own eyes. All he could do was be here for Teresa – be here and make sure she would be okay. He owed Jane that much – and more.

"Teresa?" Father Victor approached the bed, a small smile on his face. "They've just brought him out of surgery. He made it through and he's in recovery. He'll be there for a while and then they'll take him to the ICU."

"Oh thank God! When can I see him?"

"It'll be an hour or two more. They want to make sure he's as stable as possible before moving him. As soon as they do they'll come and get you. Unfortunately you can only stay with him for a few minutes."

"And he'll be okay?" she asked, hoping and praying that the worst was over.

He gave her a gentle look. "I don't know the details Teresa. His doctor will be here shortly and will explain everything. I'll continue to pray for him, and so must you." He reached out and took her hand. "Remember – have faith."

She nodded, but wasn't sure if her faith was strong enough at this point. And if he died – she wondered seriously if she would have any faith at all. She understood Patrick better now. He'd admitted once that he'd grown up being taught to believe in God. He hadn't said anymore than that, but she suspected that any belief had died along with his wife and child.

"Okay – thank you Father."

Cho excused himself to go and tell the others the news. He returned in a few short minutes and waited with her for the doctor to arrive. It was almost twenty minutes later before a tired looking man in his late forties appeared.

"Mrs. Jane?" he asked, smiling gently.

She nodded – suddenly wishing she was married to Jane. Cho had explained what he'd told them and she was glad. "Yes. How is he?"

The doctor took a deep breath but looked at her with kind eyes. "It was touch and go", he told her honestly, "but he made it through. As soon as everything looks stable we're going to be taking him to the ICU. I won't lie, he's in critical condition. We're monitoring him closely and we'll do all we can to make sure he makes it, but the next 24 to 48 hours will be crucial." He took another breath. "He lost a lot of blood and the bullet tore things up pretty badly – that's why the surgery took so long. We had a lot of tissue to repair. The good news is the bullet missed his heart."

Teresa nodded, knowing the news wasn't good – but at least he was alive. And that meant there was still hope.

"We have him on a ventilator and he'll stay on it for the next couple of days. I'll have one of the nurses get you once he's transferred to the ICU. Did they explain you can't stay for long?"

"Yes", she whispered.

"I know it's hard – but the nurses have to have access and monitor him closely – and there really isn't room for visitors. We'll make sure to keep you updated. There's a family room available and it has some cots in it, so you can rest in there." He looked down at her stomach. "I know this is hard, but don't forget to look after yourself. The last thing Patrick needs, when he regains consciousness, is to worry about you!"

"Thank you", she said. "Thank you for keeping him alive."

"Of course – that's why I do what I do", he smiled. "And don't worry – the staff here are wonderful and we'll do absolutely everything we can."

After he'd gone she had _another_ breakdown. "I'm sorry", she hiccupped into Cho's shoulder. "All I do is cry."

"Don't apologize", he told her. "You have every right and we're all here for you. You can use my shoulder any time you need it."

"Thank you Kimball", she said, wiping her face with her arm. "You don't know how much it means to me to have you here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

It was almost an hour before the nurse came to tell her that she could see her 'husband'. Cho helped her up and then stuck with her as they followed the nurse down the hallway and to the elevator. She was grateful for his supporting arm, because she felt so weak it was hard to walk.

"This is Mrs. Jane", the nurse spoke to her colleague at the ICU desk.

"Hello", the ICU nurse smiled. "We've just gotten your husband settled. You can visit him for 5 minutes every hour. I know that's hard, but it's a small room and we have to be in with him checking on him every few minutes."

"The doctor explained. Can I see him now?"

"Of course", she stood and smiled a thank you at her colleague. "I need to warn you that he's going to look rough. He's on a ventilator and lots of monitors and machines. Did the doctor also explain that he lost a lot of blood?"

"Yes", she replied, although she hadn't needed him to say anything. She had seen it for herself.

"Yes – well, that means he looks terribly pale. Just remember that we're looking after him very carefully. Would you like your friend to come with you?"

"Yes, please." She looked at Cho beseechingly and he nodded. He knew that she needed the support.

The first look at Jane almost sent her back into tears. He looked so – small – so small and still. If it hadn't been for the ventilator, pumping air into him and making his chest rise and fall, she would have thought he was dead. His face wasn't just pale – it was grey – completely grey and his lips and eyelids were blue.

"Oh Jane", she whispered. "What did you do?" She walked over and carefully took his hand in hers. It was hot and very dry – and totally lifeless. This wasn't Jane – this wasn't the man with the twinkling eyes, the wicked smile, the discerning eyes.

"Oh God Cho – look at him."

"He's alive Teresa. Just remember that – he's alive and he _will_ get better."

She nodded but continued to look at him, at the man she loved with a fierceness she had never expected. She continued to hold his hand, but leaned over until her face was close to his. "Don't you dare die. Do you hear me Patrick Jane? Don't you die on me. I _need_ you. The baby needs you. Your friends need you. You just tell yourself to get better because we haven't named the baby." She sobbed quietly. "I'll even let you name the baby Merlin or Houdini or whatever you want. Just do not die!" She kissed his cheek tenderly. "I love you."

The nurse approached her with a smile and gently touched her arm. "I'm sure he heard you. Patients seem to know when there are people who love them close by. I'm afraid I'm going to have to have you leave now, but you can come back in an hour. We'll make sure to tell you how he's doing, but I suggest you get something to eat before coming back. I can tell, just by looking at him, that this one is going to be trouble when he's awake, and you're going to need all your strength to deal with him."

Teresa let out a small gurgle of laughter, verging on more tears. "You have no idea", she told the nurse. "Trouble is his middle name."

The nurse grinned. "Good. They're the ones that do the best. Now go on and get something to eat. I'll look after him carefully."

Teresa looked at him once more before leaving. It felt like her heart was being ripped out to leave him, but she knew she could trust the nurse. "I love you", she said softly, one more time, as she left his room.

"You okay?" Kimball was watching her carefully. He worried that the sight of the very sick man had been hard on her but if anything she looked a bit calmer.

"No – but better than I was I think. I hated seeing him like that, but at least he's alive Cho. I don't think I really believed that, until now."

They made their way down to the waiting room where the others all gave Teresa a hug and asked after Jane. They then insisted on accompanying her to the cafeteria for something to eat. As they walked Teresa couldn't help but appreciate how lucky she was to have such friends.

She visited him every hour like clockwork. His condition stayed much the same, although she knew there had been a few moments when the nurses grew worried. After readjusting his medication his vitals seemed to improve slightly and she got a nod and a smile from the nurse. She felt herself relax and she could breathe again.

She knew the worry wasn't over. He was still in critical condition and things could change in a moment.

It was Abbott who finally made her go lie down and try and sleep. "You're going to make yourself sick Teresa. I'll make sure the nurses know where you are."

She finally fell asleep, exhausted from the fear and trauma of the day. She slept deeply, thankfully not disturbed by any dreams or nightmares.

When she awoke it took her a moment to remember where she was. When she did she let out a small sound of distress and swung her legs over the side of the cot. She had to check on Patrick, her mind told her. She started to panic but finally reasoned that if something had happened they would have come to her. That allowed her to slow down while she put on her shoes and then went in and washed her face. When she returned it was to see Cho dozing in a chair on the other side of the room.

She decided to leave him sleep. He had to be exhausted and he hadn't had the luxury of a cot. Giving him a look of real gratitude, she left the family room and headed down the hall towards ICU.

When she arrived she was surprised that no one was sitting at the nurses station. It only took a moment to realize that it was because everyone was in Jane's room. She rushed to the door, only to be stopped when a nurse came out and stopped her.

"You'll have to stay out here Mrs. Jane", she said in a rush. "I'm sorry."

"But what's going on?"

She heard people calling out instructions and could see the doctor bent over Patrick. "Please, what's happening?"

The nurse took her arm and tried to steer her away. "Come with me. You shouldn't be here right now."

She stopped, refusing to move. "What _is it_! What's going on? Tell me, please!"

"I'm sorry", the nurse said. "It's not looking good right now. He's bleeding internally. They have to take him back to surgery. I'm sorry", she said again. "You may have to prepare yourself."

She collapsed to the floor, tears streaking down her face. "Noooooo" she cried. "Please God - noooooo!"


	29. Of Tea and Cookies

"What have you been up to this time Paddy?"

He was sitting at the table in the small trailer. He frowned, unsure why he was here, or even _how_ he'd gotten here. He looked up at the woman standing beside him, her hands on her waist and a severe look on her face.

"Mom?" The word escaped his lips before he had time to even think.

"Don't you 'Mom' me, Patrick Alexander Jane. You can't get out of things that easily."

His confusion grew, especially when he realized the trailer he was sitting in wasn't the one in which he'd grown up. This was his Airstream, and with a quick glance down he assured himself that he was still an adult and hadn't reverted to being a ten year old boy.

"Uh -?"

"Cat got your tongue?" The woman sighed and turned towards the stove. "What will I do with you Paddy? You've always been too stubborn for your own good."

A moment later the woman, who both looked and sounded the way he remembered his mother, turned, a teacup and saucer in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other. She placed them both in front of Patrick and then sat down opposite him.

"Eat up! The tea is just the way you like it, with lots of milk and sugar."

He actually hadn't taken his tea that way in a long time – since he was eleven in fact. His father had told him that only sissies drank tea and only _real_ sissies drank it with milk and sugar. He hadn't given up the tea, but he'd begun to drink it black.

"And I made your favorite cookies", she told him. "Chocolate Crinkles. I made sure to put extra powder sugar on them."

He felt a wave of nostalgia fall over him as he looked down at the chocolate cookies. That was another thing he'd given up, although that had been more because he didn't know how to make them, then because of his father. He reached out and slowly picked up a cookie.

He was almost afraid to take a bite, although he forced himself. It was as good as he remembered. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into the scene. He must be dreaming so he might as well enjoy this.

"You're not dreaming Paddy", the woman said, as if reading his thoughts.

"No?" he said, raising his brows. "You're telling me this is real?"

"I'm not telling you anything. You _know_ Paddy."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what this is, but you're not my mother. She's dead – she's been dead for a long, long time."

The woman sighed and reached across and laid her hand on his. "What happened Patrick? Why can't you remember?"

He snatched back his hand. "What _is_ this? What do you want?"

She sighed again and clasped her hands in front of her. "It was your father, wasn't it." She shook her head. "He was a good man Patrick – but a weak one. I always knew it and I expect things changed when I was gone. Is that when you forgot?"

He shook his head and pushed his way out from behind the table. Standing up he glared at the woman still seated at the small table. "I don't know what game you're playing, but _you are not my mother_."

"Okay – have it your way but please sit down." She waited patiently until he'd taken a seat again. She once more reached out and took his hand. "I'm so sorry Paddy – sorry for all that happened to you." There were tears in the eyes that looked exactly like his. He shook his head, not wanting to hear the rest.

"No man should lose his wife and child like you did." She held on tight as he tried to pull his hand back. "No – listen to me. You went through something terrible, something no one should ever suffer – and it almost destroyed you. Yes – I know it did. But you _survived_ Patrick and not only that, you've triumphed over the evil that happened. You have a new life and a woman who loves you. You have a child on the way, a child who will look up to you and love you. Don't let that go Patrick – please."

"I don't – what are you _saying_?" he tried again to pull his hand away, this time succeeding. "What are you talking about? Please – I don't – I don't know what this is."

"You do Patrick. You know what's happening. What I want to know is why you're so determined not to live."

He felt something strange wash over him and his breathing began to speed up. He didn't know what was happening, but it was frightening him. "What do you mean?" he whispered.

"It's very simple", she told him, "you can choose to live – and spend your life with Teresa and the children you will have with her, or you can choose to die. Which is it you want?"

"Want? I want – it doesn't _matter_", he cried. "It doesn't matter what I want. It matters what I _deserve_."

"What you deserve?" she frowned. "You think you deserve to die?" She sounded horrified. "How can you think that? Patrick, you're a good man, a good soul. You don't deserve to die."

"Yes I do! Don't you see – I didn't save Angela or Charlotte – I _couldn't _save them – in fact they died because of me. But this time – this time I saved Teresa and I saved the baby. I gave my life for theirs. Maybe now I'll be forgiven. Maybe now I've redeemed myself."

"Oh Patrick", she cried. She reached out to him but he pulled back, avoiding her touch. "My boy – you don't need to redeem yourself. You didn't do anything wrong and even if there was something, you've been forgiven a long, long time ago. Don't you understand my son – you deserve happiness – and life. You _love_ and you are loved. Don't throw that away, please."

"No – I – this is the way it has to be."

She was silent for a moment, looking sad and defeated. "So – you will leave Teresa to spend the rest of her life alone, without the one man who fills the holes in her heart, the one man who completes her. And you will let your child grow up without a father. You do this because you are selfish, Patrick – something I thought I'd never see from my kind and generous boy?"

"Why are you saying these things", he cried. "I don't want to leave her – I – but she'll find someone else. She'll find a good man."

"She won't Patrick – she won't because she has given her heart to you. She gave it to you many years ago and no matter what you did, she continued to love you. Do you really think that dying will change the way she feels? No – instead she will just die with you."

"Please, stop this, stop it. I can't – I don't want to listen to you anymore."

"Now that's _definitely_ not the Patrick I know. You always listened to me – don't you remember? Don't you remember the many, many hours we talked – and laughed? You _do_ remember, I know you do. Now listen to me again. You have a reason to live Patrick, _two_ reasons. Don't give up on them. They need you – they love you. Don't make the mistake you're about to make. Go back to them and love them – and live. Come on", she reached out once more and took his hand. "Be the brave little Paddy I loved so much."

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"_Grace!" _Suddenly her friend was here – here when she needed her. Teresa ran to her and threw her arms around her. "Oh God Grace – they've taken him back to surgery. They don't think he's going to make it."

Grace hugged Teresa tightly, her eyes catching the somber ones of her husband and of Cho, who were both standing silently by. "Shhh Teresa – if he's in surgery there's hope. Come on, let's sit down." She drew her friend over to the nearest sofa and sat with her, holding her tightly.

Cho spoke quietly with Wayne, updating him on all that had occurred. The two of them had caught the earliest plane they could, knowing that whatever happened, they needed to be there for Teresa, and hopefully for Jane as well.

"Did you speak with the doctor?" Wayne asked softly.

"No – but one of the nurses spoke to me. Teresa's right – it's not looking good. If he makes it through surgery he has a chance."

"Why surgery again?"

"I guess he was pretty torn up inside. They must have missed something when they did the original operation. It's been bad Rigsby."

"How's she been holding up", Wayne gave a short nod in Teresa's direction.

"It's been hard for her, but she was able to sleep for a few hours. The staff here have been great but – until he's out of danger -" he left he rest of the thought unfinished.

"So what exactly happened?"

Cho explained, in as much detail as he could, about Eckert and the shooting. "He was going to kill Lisbon", he explained, "In order to exact revenge on Jane. But just as he shot Jane pushed her out of the way and managed to catch the bullet instead."

"_Jane_? You're telling me _Jane_ jumped in front of a bullet?" Rigsby said, sounding astonished. "Cowardly, run as far from violence as he can _Jane_?"

"Mmm hmm. You haven't seen him in a few months. Jane is – a changed man in many ways. He'd do absolutely anything for her."

"Wow – I never thought I'd see the day!"

"Me either", Cho laughed. "He's got it bad – but so does Lisbon. They're quite a pair."

The four friends sat quietly, waiting for word back on their friend. The nurses didn't know anything but assured Teresa that no news was definitely good at this point. It was almost two hours from the time he was taken to surgery when they heard noises in the hallway and looked up in time to see Jane being wheeled back into the ICU.

"Hell!" Rigsby uttered when he saw the pale and lifeless face of the consultant. "He looks -"

"I know", Kimball whispered, his eyes not leaving Jane's face. "He doesn't look like he's going to make it, does he?"

"Mrs. Jane." The surgeon – a different man this time – approached her. "The bleed was not as bad as we feared. We were able to fix it rather quickly and he's stable again. We're going to watch him closely, and he's not out of the woods yet, but things are looking up."

"Thank you", Teresa whispered. "Can I see him?"

The doctor looked toward the ICU. "Just give it about 2 minutes and then you can go in. And take care of yourself. Your husband is going to need you."

This time it was Grace who accompanied her. In fact her friend kept her arm around her the whole time, making sure to offer her both physical and emotional support.

"He looks so alone", Teresa whispered. "He can't die Grace."

"I know", her friend nodded. "The doctor sounded positive Teresa. Just don't give up hope."

"Actually, he _is_ doing better", the nurse approached and smiled. "His vitals are up substantially and he's doing quite well, considering."

"Really?" Lisbon clutched Grace's hand convulsively. You're sure?"

"Mmm hmm", she smiled. "Can't you see his color is better than it was before? He was still bleeding internally before but they managed to fix that – and so everything is looking better."

It was true, Lisbon realized. His skin had lost that horrible gray pallor, although it was still white, much too white.

"His oxygen saturation is better and his pressure is up. He's not out of the woods yet, but he is doing much, much better."

That, of course, was Teresa's cue to burst into tears. Fortunately she felt less embarrassed crying all over Grace than she had with Cho. "I'm sorry", she croaked.

"Don't you dare!" Grace shot back. "You are _not_ going to feel guilty about any of this. Crying on friends shoulders is a requisite and we're all glad to be here for you."

"I'm making you soggy", Lisbon hiccupped.

"So what's a soggy shoulder between friends? Now come on – come with me to the cafeteria so I can get something to eat. I'm starving."

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Jane looked defiantly across the table. "Fine! I _am_ going to live." He spoke to her in a 'so _there_' kind of voice.

The woman laughed. "Don't make it sound so terrible", she told him. "It's actually a very happy thing and you're going to love your life."

"Okay – so why am I still here?" Jane liked his Airstream – he'd enjoyed being able to drive it to different places – but right now he was desperate to get out of here. Why he didn't just stand up and walk away confused him terribly. Nothing was restraining him – at least nothing physical, but for some reason he couldn't leave.

The woman across from him took a deep breath and looked unutterably sad. "I think it's because you want to remember, but you refuse to let yourself."

"Remember? Remember _what_?"

"I can't tell you that Paddy. But it's in your heart – you know. Don't let what happened after I died keep you from yourself." She smiled at him. "It was good to see you again. You've grown into a fine man – I'm so proud of you. And don't you dare go naming any daughter of yours Beatrice!"

That was his mother's name and suddenly, without warning, he wanted to cry. He missed her so much – had missed her for so many years, at least until he'd met Angela and had fallen in love. Why she had returned – in his dreams at least – he had no idea. He also had no idea what he was supposed to remember.

"Patrick?"

"Hmm?" he looked at her, his head tilted slightly, his emotions still raw. "What?"

"Can you – I know it's silly – but can you just call me Mom – just once more."

He swallowed convulsively, wanting to shout at her, to refuse, to tell her to stop, to go away, but again something stopped him. He swallowed again and looked at her – looked her in the eye and saw all the love he'd seen as a child, but this time it was accompanied by a terrible longing and sadness.

"I – don't think I can", he whispered, afraid, and suddenly he felt like he'd lost something precious.

The tears sprang from her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. "It's okay", she whispered. "At least you're going to live and to be happy. What more could a mother want?"

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"He's doing quite a bit better Mrs. Jane", Dr. Bardhan smiled at her. "We might be able to take out the respirator later today if his oxygen stats remain up. I must admit I doubted he'd make it, when he was first brought in, but he's actually recovering faster than we thought possible. He's still very ill, and it's going to take some time for him to recover, but barring complications he should be fine."

"Oh thank God", she said, closing her eyes and swaying slightly. It had been three days of hell and she couldn't believe that it looked like it was finally over.

"Are you okay Teresa?" Grace asked, her arm around her friend.

"Yes", Teresa laughed. "I'm fine – now that I know he'll be okay. Oh Grace." She turned and put her arms around the younger woman and gave her a fierce hug. "I thought I was going to lose him."

"Nah", Grace replied, on the verge of tears. "Jane is like a bad penny – you can never lose him!"

Teresa gurgled and then leaned back, a smile on her face for the first time in days. She faced the Doctor, who had a pleased look on his face. "Thank you Dr. Bardhan", she held out her hand. "I owe you – everything!"

"I'd like to take full credit", he answered, smiling. "But I'm afraid the nurses – and your husband – are due as much if not more credit. And I also expect you deserve a lot of it yourself. Patrick has a strong will to live – and I'm certain that's because of you – and that baby."

Teresa couldn't stop grinning. She asked Grace to let the others know and then headed towards the ICU. For once they told her she could stay as long as she liked – or at least until they had to check Patrick over – at which time she could step into the hall for a few minutes.

He still looked dreadful, but compared to a few days ago she thought he was beautiful. His skin was still pale, and he looked as if he'd lost a surprising amount of weight in just three days – but he was alive! She sat down beside the bed and took his hand, the one not attached to the IV.

"So Jane – another fine pickle!" she said softly. "You really have to stop getting yourself into trouble – I can't survive much more of this." She smiled and gently caressed his hand. "You're going to be okay love", she told him. "You're going to be weak for a while, but that's good. It just means that I get to boss you around. But you are going to make a full recovery." She stopped talking and just watched him breath for a long, long time. It was such an amazing sight.

"You scared me Jane. Please don't ever do that again. I can't stand the thought of losing you so _promise_ me you'll run and hide the next time someone pulls a gun. I much prefer that to these – heroics of yours."

She put her left hand up and moved the lock of hair that was falling onto his forehead. She then continued to stroke his head. "I love you, you idiot, and I will be _furious_ if you go off and get yourself killed."

It took her a moment to realize that Jane was watching her. His eyes were only slightly open – blue slits in his paper-white face. For a while he simply stared, but she could sense the moment when he began to panic.

They had told her it could happen if he woke up while the ventilator was still in. They had explained that it was a strange feeling and patients often fought it, feeling like they couldn't breathe. She immediately rang for the nurse, and then bent over him, trying to calm him as the monitors starting going off and he struggled to lift his arms and do something about whatever was down his throat.

"Jane. _Jane._ Listen to me." She reached out and held his head in both hands. "You have a ventilator in. Just relax and let it do the work."

His eyes travelled back and forth, unable to hold still for any length of time. The nurse had, by this time, arrived and had injected something into his IV.

"This will calm him down", she explained. "I've also called for the doctor."

"What?" Teresa looked up, suddenly worried.

"It's okay", the nurse explained calmly. "Since Mr. Jane is awake, I figured we should see if we can get rid of the ventilator. He'll be more comfortable."

"And it's not dangerous?" A movement from Jane had her focusing on him again. She could tell from his eyes that he was still afraid and didn't know what was happening to him. "It's _okay_ Jane – relax."

"To take it out?" the nurse replied. "Not if his oxygen numbers remain strong. We'll have equipment on hand if they drop and we might need to re-intubate but it doesn't happen often. Don't worry, we'll watch carefully."

"Hi doctor" the efficient nurse turned towards the door. "Mr. Jane is fighting the respirator. I've given him a mild sedative and he's calmed down somewhat. I wondered if you thought it would be time to try and take out his respirator."

The doctor took the patient's chart and studied it carefully.

"You're okay Jane", Teresa crooned softly. He still looked distressed, although as long as his eyes were trained on her he seemed to be able to handle things. The sedative had also obviously taken effect.

He nodded slightly, although then he looked down at the tube, a confused look on his face.

"It's been helping you breathe, but they're going to take it out now. Everything is okay love. You're okay, just relax."

"Hello Mr. Jane. It's nice to see you back with us." The doctor approached his patient calmly, glancing over at the monitors. "We're going to try and take this tube out now – you'll be much more comfortable." He spoke briefly to the nurse and then turned back around. "Now, I want you to breathe out when we remove it, okay?" He waited for the man in the bed to give a small nod, even though he still looked confused.

"It's going to be a bit uncomfortable, but just try and relax. Nurse Sobell here has some ice and she'll give it to you right away since your throat is going to be a bit sore. Okay, here we go."

The moment the tube came out Jane felt like he wanted to gag – but the ice immediately soothed his mouth and throat. After a second in which he got control of his breathing, he closed his eyes and simply allowed himself to enjoy the cold pleasure of the ice.

What had happened? He couldn't remember anything, although he had a vague memory of tea and cookies. He frowned slightly – he thought they were the chocolate ones his mother used to make, but he hadn't had one of those since he was a child.

He felt a hand holding his and slowly opened his eyes again. He felt so tired, so lethargic and really couldn't muster up the courage to worry about anything right now – although the thought of tea did kind of appeal.

"Tea?" he whispered to Lisbon.

She laughed, although the tears sprung instantly to her eyes. That _did_ worry him. What was wrong? That's not the usual way she reacted to a request for tea.

"I'm afraid no tea for you yet young man", an older, gray haired woman told him sternly. She was fiddling with something by his bed and he blinked, trying to figure out why there were bags hanging on poles beside him.

"What?" he asked. Where was he?

"You're in the hospital Patrick", Teresa told him softly. "You were hurt but you're going to be okay. You just need to rest – and when you're a bit better I'll bring you a big cup of tea, okay?"

"Kay", he nodded, his eyes drifting closed. "With – milk and – sugar", he sighed. A moment later he was sound asleep.

She glanced at the nurse, who smiled. "He'll be a little out of it for the first few days, although he's actually doing really well. Now you", the woman gave her a stern glance, "had better get some rest. You have to think of that baby!"

Teresa nodded, knowing she did need to sleep – and to shower – but she couldn't leave him yet, not yet.

She smiled when she thought of him asking for tea. Only he would do something like that after just about dying! She wondered briefly at the milk and sugar – she'd never seen him drink it like that before.

She leaned back in the chair, his hand still held in hers, and smiled. He was going to be okay.

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"No Teresa, you're not staying here. Grace is driving you home and you're going to eat, shower and then sleep. Cho and I will sit with him and we'll explain."

"But Wayne", she looked at the tall man who was like a brother. "What if he wakes up and wonders where I am."

"Then we'll tell him. Come on – you need to rest because soon he's going to be awake a lot more and you _know_ what he'll be like then."

She couldn't help the small giggle that escaped. The hospital staff had _no_ idea what they were in for.

"Okay – but promise you'll explain it to him?"

"Of course. Now go _home_."

"It's because I smell, isn't it?" she asked Grace a few minutes later, as they walked to the parking garage.

"Well – I didn't want to say anything boss -!"

Teresa laughed out loud at that. "First, I'm not your boss and haven't been for a long time – and – thanks!" she said the last sincerely and turned towards one of her best friends. She reached out and gave her a hug. "I don't know what I would have done without all of you."

"We're glad to be here" Grace hugged her back. "Although we're leaving the _minute_ Jane is fully conscious and starts giving the staff hell. Then he's all yours."

Teresa smiled broadly as they continued on their way. Yes he was. He was hers and she couldn't be happier.


	30. Of Pain and Progress

He must be having another dream, he thought, as his eyes opened slowly. There was absolutely no other reason why Rigsby would be sitting beside his bed, looking down at him.

He saw movement behind the big guy and tried to squint to see what it was. He quickly gave up when he realized that anything, including squinting or moving, took more energy than he had.

The next thing he knew there was a buzz of noise around him, although he had no idea what it signified. Everything was so fuzzy, so out of focus that he decided to simply close his eyes.

"Is he okay?" Wayne asked the nurse worriedly. "He didn't seem to understand me."

"He's still on lots of pain medication and he's weak from blood loss. It's going to take him quite a while before he's alert", the nurse told him as she walked around and checked Jane's vitals.

"But he's okay?"

She switched out one of the IV bags and glanced down at the still man in the bed. "He's still very ill", she said quietly. "He's out of danger – barring complications – but he has a long way to go before he's well again. Don't expect much from him, but it's important that he knows someone is with him. It helps."

Rigsby nodded, although he kept his eyes focused on Jane. He still couldn't believe how terrible the poor man looked. His face appeared as if it was made of parchment paper stretched over bone, with the addition of dark circles around his eyes. His lips held no color, which gave him a strange, ghost-like appearance. Besides that he looked like some kind of cyborg, with wires and tubes and monitors covering half his body.

Rigsby had a hard time when he thought about what had happened to Jane. Just as the man was getting his life back together and was finding some happiness again, this had to happen. Although Wayne had to admit his respect for Jane had grown tremendously.

He'd always liked him – or at least he'd grown to like him after the first few months he'd been with the CBI. He'd also grown to appreciate Jane's many, although often hidden, talents. He had learned, over the years, that the former psychic and con-man was a decent man, even thought his actions sometimes seemed to contradict that.

He knew he shouldn't really be surprised that Jane had thrown himself in front of a bullet for Teresa. He'd sacrificed in the past to protect those he cared for – even if that was a relatively small number of people. But he also knew how frightened Jane was of violence and especially of guns. The fact that he'd done it showed the depth of his love for her.

"You're crazy", he whispered. "But I'm glad you made it."

He continued to sit and watch his friend, even though Jane kept on sleeping. He'd promised Lisbon he'd watch over him, and so stay he would, even though his butt was growing numb.

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He watched the still water of the pond, enjoying the cool breeze and the sunlight that just touched his shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the peace of the moment to wash over him.

"It's beautiful here."

His eyes flew open and his head turned. There she was again – the woman who looked and sounded like his mother. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyebrows lifted. "I don't know. You're the one who brought me." She scanned the area around the pond. "I've never been here before."

"Stop it!" He stood and walked a few steps away, his back to the pond, facing her. "Just stop this!"

"I'm not doing anything Patrick. I'm just sitting here enjoying the day with my son." Her eyes suddenly glistened with the faint touch of tears. "That's it", she whispered. "You brought me here because it reminds you of our place."

"First, I didn't bring you and second – reminds me of what place?"

"Of that lake. Remember? We spent one whole August there that summer. We were performing in Lincoln, Nebraska and it was a short distance away from the fairground. You remember, don't you?" she peered up at him, a gentle look on her face.

He wanted to deny it, but the memory was there – it had appeared suddenly in his mind as if it happened yesterday. He must have been about eight years old.

He thought back to life on the carny circuit and remembered that during the morning there was little for him at the carnival – the shows started later in the afternoon. That was the time he usually spend studying with his mother, or helping his father with chores. This time, however, he remembered his mother telling them they were going to have a little holiday. She took his hand and they walked away from the carnival.

He recalled being somewhat fearful, walking out in the country, but his mother held his hand and began to sing. Soon he joined in with her and the two of them laughed and then ran through the fields. Eventually they came to the small lake and he threw himself to the ground, reveling in the unaccustomed freedom.

He could hear his mother laugh as she sat down beside him. She had brought a small canvas bag with her and was soon pulling out lots of goodies. After filling themselves on all sorts of good food his mother took him down to the lake side and they lay in the grass, enjoying the warmth of the day.

"Paddy, look", she'd whispered. Her finger was pointed towards the lake and he turned. Floating by, only a few feet away, was a mother duck, followed by six tiny ducklings.

He wanted to rush to the water's edge but his mother had stopped him. "Shhh", she'd said softly. "We don't want to scare her."

"But I won't hurt her Mommy", he's whispered back.

"I know baby, but _she_ doesn't know that. Her babies are tiny and we'll scare her and them. Just watch from here."

They must have sat there for forty-five minutes, just watching as the ducks swam close to shore. Once they'd gone he and his mother had spent the rest of the morning coming up with silly names for the baby ducks.

They'd returned to the carnival and their trailer after that and soon he had to go on stage with his father. He'd already started the 'boy wonder' act, although it was mostly his father who performed, with just small bits from him.

They went back many times after that, watching as the ducklings grew bigger and bigger. Patrick didn't think they'd ever told his father about their trips to the lake. He remembered it as magical time.

It was strange that it was a memory that he hadn't thought of in years. After his mother's death he couldn't bear to remember the happy times, and then over the years other things had seemed more important.

It was strange, he realized, that the hardest memories to deal with after you lost someone you loved were those special times – those magical moments. He'd lost those after Angela and Charlotte had died, and was only now able to start recalling those times.

"You remember, don't you Paddy?"

He took a startled breath. He'd forgotten where he was or who was with him. He frowned. Not that he really knew what was going on or why he was here. "Yes", he nodded, deciding to tell the truth. "I remember going with my mother to the lake."

She smiled – a smile so like his that it was eerie. He remembered how often people mentioned the fact that he looked so much like his mother. His eyes and his mouth especially, everyone had said. He'd liked that as a child although by the time he was eleven he had begun to wish he looked more like his father.

He lost the desire to be like his father in any way by the time he was fifteen.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, more gently this time.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm here because you want me here."

He laughed and shook his head. "Oh no – don't think you can blame this on me. I have nothing to do with this."

"Patrick, where are you?"

"Huh?" He looked around. "I'm at Elker's Pond – by the FBI building."

"Are you? Do you remember walking here today? And what day _is_ it? Where are Teresa or Cho or any of your colleagues."

He frowned. "They're at work", he told her defiantly.

"And do you remember walking here?" she asked again.

He tried to think, but everything was indistinct – at least everything but being here and the memory of his mother when he was a child. He started to panic and his breath came in short gasps. He had to bend over, his hands on his thighs. "I don't understand", he gasped.

She stood quickly and walked over to him. Pulling him up until he was standing straight she put her arms around him and held him tightly. "It's okay Paddy, Mama's here", she said lovingly. "Always remember, you are safe, you are loved and you are wise."

"_MOM!" _He gasped and his eyes shot open.

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"Jane? Are you okay?"

Jane looked at him, his eyes blinking slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure if he was awake. "What", he choked out. Two small ridges appeared between his brows and his eyes shifted to look beyond Rigsby.

"Uh – I'm sorry, your Mom's not here", he told the ill man with a frown. He hadn't known that Jane's mother was even still alive. He hadn't heard him talk about her at all."

Jane looked terribly confused for a moment and looked as if he were trying to speak. Finally he was able to get out a soft sound. "No – Ter -"

"Oh – _Teresa!"_ he said, sounding relieved. _ "_Teresa went home to shower and rest. She's fine."

Patrick continued to look troubled and even opened his mouth as if to say something. He tried licking his lips and Wayne suddenly realized he must be parched.

"Hey – do you want some ice? The nurse said you might. Just wait a second and I'll get you some." He stood and left the room quickly, leaving an even more confused Jane.

It was only a few seconds before Rigsby returned, but Jane was already almost asleep. The spoon with the heavenly feel of cold, cold ice touched his lips, bringing him back awake almost instantly. He opened his mouth and relaxed. He'd never thought that ice could be quite so wonderful.

A few cubes later and he felt a bit more alert, but now the pain was beginning to increase. He grew restless, as the pain expanded everywhere. He groaned softly, scaring the pants off of Wayne, who stood up and leaned over the consultant.

"What is it Jane? Can I get you something?"

Jane shook his head, not sure what he wanted. He had wanted to ask Wayne something, something important but he couldn't remember what it was. And then there was the fire burning in his chest. In his bleary mind he suddenly remembered that Rigsby had once worked for the arson squad. He'd know how to put out fires.

"Burning", he managed to gasp. When Rigsby looked at him in confusion he wanted to groan. "Put it – _out", _he groaned. "Hurts", he finally managed to utter.

That sent Wayne once again scurrying out of the room. By this time Patrick wasn't sure if he could handle the intense agony that had now blossomed across his chest. He just wanted someone to shoot him – please. Put out the fire.

Again he heard noises and next he felt something tug on his hand. It stung but wasn't anything compared to the agony of his chest. By this time he could only hear whimpering, but was in so much pain he didn't realize it was from him. A few seconds later and he began to feel a tingling in his body, starting with his toes and quickly working its way up. By the time the tingling reached his neck he was feeling an incredible sense of relief. The pain had exhausted him, however, and a moment later he was back asleep.

"God, that was scary", Wayne said to the nurse.

"I know", she said sympathetically. "It's hard to watch someone you care about in pain. But don't worry. I'll tell the doctor and we'll make sure he doesn't have to go through that again."

"He's okay though?"

"Oh yes. He's sleeping now and I'll make sure to talk to the doctor as soon as he's in. Don't worry", she repeated with a small smile. "Mr. Jane is fine."

"Wayne, how is he?" Teresa walked in and her first words were about Jane. Her eyes were fixed on him as if to ensure herself that he was still there.

"He woke up a couple of times", he told her. "He's still pretty out of it but the nurse said that's normal. The last time he woke up he was in a lot of pain so the doctor changed his meds. But he said that Jane is doing well."

She nodded, glad to know he was still doing well but distressed that he had been in such pain. He didn't deserve that. She reached down and took his hand in hers. "Thank you Wayne", she finally looked up and smiled at her friend. "I appreciate you staying with him."

"Hey, it's no problem, you know that. Both of you are our friends. There's no where else we'd be."

"Thank you", she smiled. "You realize I'm going to hold that to you when Jane gets better."

"I had my fingers crossed", he told her at that. "I can take it back."

"Nope. No take-backs!"

The two friends smiled at one another, both of them greatly relieved that Patrick was going to be okay.

"Uh Teresa?" Wayne asked a few minutes later, sounding hesitant.

"Mmm hmm?" her eyebrows lifted Teresa looked over at him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Does Jane have a mother?"

She grinned at that. "Uh – I'm pretty sure most people do."

"No. I mean, is she still alive?"

Teresa pursed her lips, looking rather serious. "No, she's dead. Although I don't have any details. He never really talks about her."

"Mmm."

"But he has mentioned his father?"

"A couple of times, that's all. I guess his father was a con-man. Jane doesn't have much good to say about him. Can I ask why you want to know?"

"Yeah. The last time he woke up he -" Rigsby paused.

"He?"

"He called for his Mom. I was surprised because like you I'd never heard him speak of her before. I was just curious."

She nodded, admitting to herself that she was curious too. She'd have to ask him when he was awake.

That brought a feeling of dizzying relief. She was going to be able to ask him questions, because he was still alive! She felt her eyes water from the reaction.

"You know, don't you, that he's going to be a pain in the ass while he's recuperating", Wayne pointed out, seeming to sense that she needed a change of topic.

"Yes, I know", she answered, with a small sniff and a surreptitious wipe of her eyes. "I'm trying to figure out how to avoid him then."

"I don't think you can do that", he told her seriously, although with a twinkle. He knew darn well she would stick like a leech to Jane while he was recuperating. "He did save your life so I think you're required to stay close."

Rigsby soon had to leave to meet Grace. She said goodbye and thanked him again for staying and then settled in beside the man she loved. He was starting to look more alive than dead, thankfully. For the first few days he'd looked more like a corpse than a real human being.

It wasn't long before she felt him stir and a short while later his eyes slowly opened.

"Hey, you're awake", she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

His eyes slowly drifted towards her voice. He was so tired but he felt a wash of relief to know she was with him. "Kay", he managed to whisper in reply to her question. He couldn't really see her clearly – she was all fuzzy, but he felt her hand grasp his. He sighed with pleasure.

"Hey you", she told him tenderly. "It's good to see you awake."

"Don't – know if – I am", he replied, his eyes wanting to close. "You – okay? Baby?"

"I'm fine", she told him gently as she carefully moved the hair off his forehead. "And the baby is fine too. You saved our lives Patrick."

He smiled slightly. "I – did – good then."

"Yes, you did good. Now rest. All you have to do is sleep and get better. I'm here to watch over you."

He nodded. "Safe and loved – and wise", he whispered. The next second he was sound asleep.

She frowned slightly, although there was a smile on he face. She wondered what his words had meant. She'd have to ask him when he was better."

"Hey, you're awake!" She'd gotten here as early as possible after a good and restful night. Now that he was out of danger she was able to sleep and knew it was important for the baby's sake. She looked at Jane, who was sitting with the bed raised slightly. He was looking much better today, although he was still pale and his eyes still had that fogged look from heavy painkillers.

"It's good to see you conscious", she told him with a big smile.

"It's good to see you period", he replied weakly.

The smile disappeared and she stared at him in panic. Oh no – don't tell her that he'd forgotten everything ag –

"Got you", he told her, a grin appearing.

She shook her head. "You almost _died_ and you're joking around." The grin reappeared and she leaned over and kissed him. "And this time you _can_ grab my butt."

He sighed. "That's really cruel", he whined.

"What's cruel?" she asked with raised brows.

"Teasing me about that when I don't have the energy to enjoy it."

"Well, we'll save it up for later."

"Good." His smile faded and he closed his eyes. The brief interlude had already exhausted him. Teresa looked at him, worried at how pale and listless he still was.

"Stop worrying", he told her, still not opening his eyes. "I'm fine – just tired."

"You're sure?"

"Of course." He looked at her and then held out his hand. She didn't say anything about how shaky it was but instead simply clasped it in her own. "The doctor said it would take me a while to get my strength back and until then you're going to have to wait on me."

"I am, am I", she told him with a 'you've got to be kidding' look. "I think you'll have to ask the nurses to do that, not me."

His face darkened and he frowned. "Bloodthirsty vampires", he grumped.

"Who", she laughed. "The nurses? They're nice."

"They're nice when you're here", he complained. "Their sole purpose is to make me suffer!"

"_Patrick_! Are you giving them a hard time already? You've barely been conscious for a day."

"Hey, I'm lying her, sick and in pain. _I'm_ not the one giving anyone a hard time." He glowered again. "It's them."

"Hi Mr. Jane", one of the nurses walked in just at that moment. "How are you feeling."

He glared at her, even though it took almost more energy than he had. "Fine."

"Good. I'm just going to check on your IV and then I'll leave you and your wife alone."

That got a swift look from Jane and he opened his mouth to comment when Teresa squeezed his hand.

"He gets grumpy when he's sick", she told the nurse.

"That's okay", the young woman smiled. "We're used to it. There you go Mr. Jane, all done. Let me know if you need anything."

"Why?" he griped. "You won't bring me anything I ask for anyway."

"I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to hold down any solid food right now and you can't have caffeine. I'm sorry."

"See?" whined Jane. By this time he was exhausted and closed his eyes. "Can't even – get a – cup of tea."

Once the nurse was gone he dozed for a while, although he was still aware that Teresa remained by his bed. He loved the fact that she was holding his hand and it allowed him to drift.

He yawned and opened his eyes, feeling slightly better for the short nap. Teresa was still sitting beside him and appeared as if she'd been looking at him the whole time. "Hey – you need to rest", he told her.

"I did", she smiled. "I had a great night's sleep last night. I'm feeling good."

"Okay – but don't overdo it." He watched her watching him and finally smiled. "I love you", he told her.

"And I love you too. But if you _ever_ throw yourself in front of a bullet again, I will personally shoot you _myself_. Do you understand?"

He smiled – which always got to her, and Jane knew it so it had become his way of not answering a direct question.

"Jane?"

"Teresa, I _love_ you and I'm always going to put your life first – your life and the baby's so there's no point in discussing this."

She nodded, knowing it was futile. She sighed. "Just – promise me you'll be careful then, okay?"

"Okay."

After a few more moments of silence, when Jane continued to doze, she finally got up the courage to ask.

"Patrick?"

"What?" he turned bleary eyes towards her.

"Can I ask something? Something personal?"

He shrugged although he looked slightly uncomfortable. After a moment his demeanor changed and he tried to straighten up, although the pain and the bed kept him from being totally successful.

"Okay", he nodded – and waited.

"It's about your mother."

He blinked, confused as to what she'd just asked. "My _mother_?"

"Yes. You – called out for her yesterday, just as you woke up. I wondered, because you've never really talk about her."

He suddenly remembered the trailer and the cookies – and then the ducks. He didn't know what it was all about but he _knew_ the woman in his dreams couldn't be his mother. He was sure. He had to be.

He lifted his eyes until they were staring directly into Teresa's. "I told you, she's dead. She died when I was eleven", he told her.

There – that was the end of it. He wasn't about to let his dreams lead him into believing that his mother was still alive, no matter how appealing that was and he certainly didn't want to discuss her.

Teresa reached out and gently touched him arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It was a long time ago", he closed out the conversation right there. "I think I want to sleep Lisbon", he yawned again. "Could you put the bed down?"

A moment later he was stretched out on the mattress, sound asleep.

Teresa watched him as he slept and sighed. Life would never be simple and straightforward, not with Patrick Jane around.


	31. Of Hurt and Misery

_**Just a short chapter tonight but I hope you enjoy. Not to sound greedy, but reviews would be nice. I want to make sure people are still enjoying this story. And don't worry- I won't carry on too much longer with Jane in Pain. Thanks all - reviews are my calorie-free chocolates.**_

"Aaah. This is perfect Mary, thank you." He took another sip of tea. "You are a jewel among women!"

The plump little nursing assistant beamed at Patrick. "Oh you", she scolded. "You're a total rascal. Now drink your tea before the nurse gets here and I get in trouble."

"Don't worry", he leaned forward slightly and whispered. "If Nurse Ratchet comes I'll tell her I snuck out of bed and got it myself."

"Tsk", she shook her head. "As if she won't know that _that's_ a lie. And you shouldn't call her that. She's not that bad", she said, shaking her head. "Now you be good!" With a gentle pat to his shoulder she left the room.

Jane settled back with a sigh and instantly his smile disappeared. He felt sick and he _hated_ hospitals. Other than Mary and one or two of the floor staff who he'd managed to charm, most of the nurses treated him like a little boy who had to be monitored one moment and patronized the next.

He wanted out of here. He wanted to go home with Lisbon and curl up in their bed and feel her next to him. He wanted to have a cup of tea when he wanted it – or a steak or a piece of pizza or anything he wanted – without some battle-axe of a nurse telling him it wasn't good for him.

He was a grown man and he knew what he could handle. He took another sip of tea and refused to acknowledge that his stomach started to feel funny. It was the frustration of being stuck in here, not the caffeine that was bothering him.

He finished the cup just to prove a point and then fumbled to put it on the table beside him. He'd been moved into a regular ward room a couple of days prior but he was still weak and not yet able to get out of bed by himself.

Oh, they'd had him up and moving to the chair, but it had taken two nurses to help him do it. Besides being humiliating, it had damn well hurt. They'd reduced his pain medication to lessen the chance of him becoming dependent on narcotics, but the other stuff didn't work nearly as well.

Right now, not only was his chest hurting, it was also starting to itch like crazy. Having tried it once he knew it wasn't worth it to scratch. That episode had led to him losing his breakfast after practically ripping out some stiches.

He looked at his watch – at least he'd convinced Lisbon to bring that to him - and noticed it was almost 2 o'clock. He didn't know where she was and he was starting to worry. She'd been by first thing in the morning but had had to leave for a meeting. He hated when he was left alone.

"So, how are you feeling this afternoon Patrick?"

Jane's eyes moved to the nurse and he scowled. She looked like she starched her face at the same time she starched her uniform.

Nurse Jean Edmonds – or Nurse Ratchet as he called her to himself and his friends – was his least favorite attendant. She was arrogant and lacked both a sense of humor or any perceptible compassion, at least as far as he could tell. She was one of those people who was highly competent, but did what she did because she liked to control others, not because she truly cared about them.

"Well, I was just contemplating whether to go for a run or take up square dancing, but I haven't decided yet. And how are _you_ feeling today Jean?"

He could tell, by the tightening around her eyes, that she liked him about as well as he liked her. Good – they were on the same page.

She smiled. "Well, aren't you a funny one." She advanced on him quietly – rather like a spider he thought – and reached out with her hand. "Hmm, what's this? It looks like one of the nursing staff has been disobeying orders and brought you some tea." She shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to do something about that. We can't have staff catering to patients whims now, can we?"

Jane smiled back. "Oh no, that would be terrible. What is the world coming to when nursing staff actually tries to make a patient feel better? Although I'm afraid you're wrong", he said regretfully.

"Wrong?" Her eyebrows lifted in pseudo-interest.

"Mmm hmm. It wasn't a nurse who brought me the tea."

"No? Then who was it?"

He leaned his head forward and gestured with his finger for her to come closer. Once she was standing right next to him he whispered – "it was a ghost."

She stood up quickly, a look of disgust on her face. "A _ghost_? Are we going to have to adjust your medication again Patrick? I'm afraid you're seeing things."

"Oh no", he shook his head. "It _was_ a ghost. She even introduced herself to me."

"She did?" Nurse Edmonds looked at him with a mocking smile. "And what was her name?"

"Well – it was a little hard to hear – you know what ghosts are like – but I think she said her name was Saaaa – rah? No, no, it was Sadie, that's it."

The smile left Edmonds face and she froze. "What?" she hissed.

"Yes, Sadie. She said she was a nurse here, about fifteen years ago." Jane looked as if he suddenly noticed the woman standing by his bed. "Did you know her?"

"What are you doing?" the nurse breathed.

"Doing? Nothing. Just telling you what Sadie said. She told me that there was a patient here – a man by the name of – hmm, I think it was Edwards or Edgars – something like that. Anyway, she said that someone gave him the wrong medication and he died. She was blamed for it because her name was on the chart but she claimed it wasn't her, that she was framed, that she hadn't even been on the floor at the time. Still, the hospital administration was forced to fire her because the dead man's family was going to sue." Jane shook head. "It was very sad. Anyway, I think she must have been a good nurse because she brought me a cup of tea."

"You're lying", Ratchet/Edmonds growled. "You couldn't know anything about Sadie."

"Uh – if I don't know anything about her, how did I just tell you what the ghost said?"

"There was no ghost", she slammed her hand down on his hospital table. "I'm afraid I'm definitely going to have to reduce your medication", she said angrily, reaching for the IV. "You're hallucinating."

"I wouldn't touch that", he shook his head. "Remember I work with the FBI. We _could_ do another investigation into Edgars' death. Who knows what we might find."

Edmonds took a deep breath and pulled her hand back from the IV and turned around and headed to the door. "How could you have seen her ghost", she said, not turning around. "Sadie isn't dead."

"Yes she is", he said softly. "She just died a couple of weeks ago. Cancer. She told me she came back here to get justice. I'm not sure what that means, but she was nice. I wished her luck."

Nurse Edmonds made a strange sound and left his room. Jane lay back down and let out a sigh. That had been exhausting, but worth it. Jean Edmonds was a hard woman and she deserved to suffer, thinking that the spirit of Sadie Thompson was about to haunt her.

It was almost 4 o'clock before Lisbon returned and by this time he was feeling totally and completely out of sorts. He felt like he'd been deserted, especially since he hadn't had even one visitor after Nurse Ratchet had left.

They still had the damned catheter in, even though he'd begged to have it removed. They told him that until everything checked out – whatever the hell that meant – they were going to keep it in. It meant he didn't have any real reason to call for a nurse, although he'd contemplated it a few times.

The problem was – he was bored. He couldn't do _anything_, he couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't work, couldn't even read. His head was still messed up from the pain medication and he grew tired after a few sentences.

He sighed again. He wanted to go home.

"Jane, I'm sorry", Teresa rushed into the room – at least as much as a very pregnant woman could rush. "I got held up. How are you doing?"

Jane gave her his full 'I'm doing fine, everything is okay in my world' smile. "Fine, I'm doing just fine."

"Really?" she gave him a penetrating look. "You're sure everything is okay?"

"It's fine Teresa", he told her. "I've just been lying here resting."

"Oh." She came over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then settled, with a sigh, into the chair by his bed. "I'm glad. I got held up at work. We have a new case and Abbott wanted to talk to me about it."

"What is it?" he asked, trying to push himself up a bit on the bed. Maybe a new case would give him something to do.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." She gave him another smile. "The doctor said to rest and you shouldn't be worrying about cases right now." She frowned slightly. "Did he come by?"

He shrugged, suddenly feeling even more irritated. He was sick of everyone coddling him. He wanted something to do. "No." he answered shortly.

"Patrick, are you _sure_ you're alright. You seem kind of -"

"Of what?" he asked. "I told you I'm fine Teresa."

"Okay", she said, sounding hesitant. "So the doctor didn't come by yet? Isn't that strange."

He shrugged again. "Who knows? I guess they figure I'm well enough now so they're not going to bother to check on me so often."

"Yes well, you're _not_ okay yet – at least not completely. You only got out of the ICU two days ago."

"I'm a fast healer", he snapped.

She sighed. "Yes – but you're still sick." She glanced at his table and around the room. "Don't you have any water?"

"No – the nurse didn't bring any."

"Why didn't you ring for some?" When he didn't answer she asked another question. "Did you have lunch?"

"They brought something. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be edible or not."

"Okay – there _is_ something wrong. What is it Patrick? Is it because I was late? If so, I'm sorry. We have an important case and I knew you were okay. I didn't want to leave you alone but Abbott asked me to stay."

"I told you Teresa -"

"Yes, I know. You're _fine_! Well, you're obviously in a bad mood so you're not fine."

"What do you want from me Teresa? I'm stuck in this damned hospital bed with nothing to do. I can't even get up to pee for heaven's sake. I can't read, there's no one to talk to and the TV isn't hooked up. So forgive me if I'm feeling a little frustrated."

"Why didn't you call a nurse?"

"To do what? Sit and have a chat with me? They're busy, or so they're always telling me. As far as I can tell all they do is go around and tell patients what they can't do or can't have."

"That's because you've made them all mad by being so damned rude to them", she snapped. "Maybe if you treated people decently you wouldn't be left here alone!"

"So this is my fault? You're saying that the nursing staff won't bring me water because I don't treat them decently?"

"No – well maybe." When he stared at her she shook her head. "I'm not getting into this with you right now. You know damned well that you can be rude and obnoxious to people and you anger them all the time. And you hate hospitals which makes your behavior even worse."

"Fine! If you find me so obnoxious why are you here? Why don't you just go home and work on the case some more, or - or go out with Vega or something?"

"Fine!" She repeated and pushed herself to her feet. "If you're going to be like this I _will_ go home. At least there I can have some peace and quiet." She glanced down at Jane, noticing that he was wearing that look that said there was more to this than what he was saying. She felt guilty for a brief moment and then decided that no, she wasn't going to fall for that. Right now she didn't care what was bugging him. She was exhausted and couldn't deal with him right now. He needed to learn not to treat people like crap all the time.

"Call the nurse if you need something", she told him. "And have a good night." With that she headed out the door and home.

His head flopped back on the pillow and he cursed, at himself, not at Lisbon. He knew he was being a jerk but he was feeling miserable. He hurt, he was bored and he missed her. With a sigh he tried to close his eyes. Maybe this time he could sleep without the damn dreams coming to haunt him.


	32. Of Nurses and Names

_**I had a couple of requests from faithful reviewers to have a sweet scene between Jane and Lisbon as well as some more baby talk. So … here goes – a fluffy chapter with no real plot. See – if you review and give me suggestons I might write a chapter for you (pure, absolute bribery). Hope you enjoy**_

_**Thanks HUGELY for all your great comments. I've been inspired.**_

After she left Jane's room she stopped at the nurse's station. "Excuse me", she said to the older nurse behind the desk. "I'm wondering if the doctor is going to be in to see my - to see Patrick Jane. He said no one's been by yet."

The nurse grabbed a chart and looked down at it. "Uh – the doctor got held up in surgery. There was a multi-vehicle accident. He should be by shortly." She put the chart down and resumed her other work. It was at that moment that Teresa developed some sympathy for Patrick. Some of the nurses were wonderful, others, like this one weren't. "Uh, also, no one has been in to check on him in quite a while and he doesn't even have any water. I know the doctor said he needs to be well-hydrated because of all the blood he lost."

This time the duty nurse sighed and turned in her chair. Written on a white board behind her were all the patients' names and the nurses assigned to them. "Nurse Edmonds has him this afternoon. I'll page her."

When Edmonds didn't show up the duty nurse sighed again, looking put out. "I'll call a nursing assistant to make sure he gets some water. As I said, the doctor should be here shortly. Was there anything else?"

Teresa was seething but knew there was little she could do. "Yes, I want to speak to your supervisor. Tell him or her I'll be in touch. This is ridiculous." With that she turned and headed back to Patrick's room. She was going to kill someone.

When she arrived at his room she stopped, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Why had she been so mean to the poor man? He was sick and needed her to be patient with him. With a small sigh she peeked her head around the door. When she saw he was already asleep she entered and moved towards his bed.

She sat down quietly and regarded him closely. Why hadn't she noticed him when she first came in? He still looked so ill, his face pale with dark circles under his eyes and lines etched between his brows. On top of that he'd lost weight and looked gaunt and terribly weak. She was suddenly consumed with guilt. How could she have been so terrible to him when he was still so sick? Of course he was irritable.

She sighed and reached out and gently stroked his curls. He moved slightly and then his eyes opened.

"Teresa?" he blinked a couple of times to try and clear the sleep from his eyes. "Hi, what are you doing here? Have I been asleep for a long time?"

"No", she gave him a small smile and then grasped his hand. "Just a few minutes. Patrick, I'm so -"

"No", he stopped her. "Don't say it. It was my fault Teresa, and _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have taken my bad mood out on you."

"You're sick and I should have had more patience. And _anyone _would be in a bad mood in this place." She stretched slightly and let out a slow breath. "I _am _sorry – my only excuse is that I was tired."

"I know love. I guess we're both at fault. And you need to take better care of yourself. I'll have to talk to Dennis about working you so hard."

That won him another kiss but then she laughed and looked at him mischievously. "You realize I'm not going to let you forget this?"

"Forget what?" his eyes narrowed and he looked at her suspiciously.

"You – admitting it was your fault. It's a rare occurrence Jane."

"Pfff", he snorted. "And yes it is rare. I'm usually not."

She laughed again. "Of course you're not", she shook her head. "How are you feeling now?"

"Tired, sore, bored, but really, really glad you came back." He gave her one of his best smiles and this time she believed him.

"Good. So am I." She settled into the chair. "They're sending someone in with some water. They can't find your nurse."

"Nurse Ratchett?"

"I hope you haven't called her that to her face." She gave him her best 'Jane, stop it glare'.

"No, but I wanted to. She's a repressed, vindictive woman who thrives on making people do what she wants, especially when they're too sick or weak to object."

"That's harsh", she told him with raised eyebrows. "What makes you think that?"

"She wouldn't let me have any tea."

Teresa grinned. "I see. She does sound like a horrible person. What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did you say or do to her? She's disappeared."

"You think I had something to do with that? Teresa, I'm stuck in this bed. How could I possibly have done anything to the woman?"

"I don't mean you _physically_ did something to her. You must have said something though – something that caused her to flee."

"To flee? Right."

"Jane!"

"What?"

"What did you say to her?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I may have told her about the ghost."

"The _ghost_? What ghost? And anyway, you don't believe in ghosts."

He grinned. "I know, but she does – at least now."

"Jane – what did you _do_?"

"Well, I may have told her that I was visited by the ghost of a nurse who was fired – unfairly I might add – for accidently giving a patient the wrong medication and killing him."

"You didn't", she said faintly. "And I suppose this is a true story? At least the part about the nurse, not about the ghost."

"Mmm hmm. Happened about fifteen years ago."

"And why would this story make your nurse leave?"

"Well, I think she had something to do with it."

"With what?" Teresa frowned in confusion.

"With giving the man the wrong medicine. I think it may have been Nurse Ratchett who did it and blamed Sadie – the ghost nurse."

"There are no ghosts Jane. And how would you possibly know that your nurse was behind this?"

"Mmm. She seems the type."

"The type to _what_?"

"Lay the blame for her crime on somebody else. And she blanched when I told her about Sadie."

"Maybe she's just scared of ghosts."

He smiled. "Maybe."

"Jane?"

"What?"

"How did you know about this nurse – the one from fifteen years ago?"

He shrugged. "I must have heard someone talking about it."

"Why would anyone be talking about it now?"

He shrugged and yawned. "Let's not discuss her anymore. You didn't bring any snacks did you?"

"No, I'm sorry. Are you hungry?"

"Mmm hmm. All they give me is jello and broth. I'm sick of it. I want something solid."

"They said your digestive system isn't ready for solid food yet. You had major surgery you know."

"Of course I know. I'm the one with the big hole in my chest!" At her look of distress he cursed himself and reached out with his hand. He then cursed again that he was so weak even that was hard. "I'm sorry Teresa. Ignore me."

"_Ignore_ you? I'd like you to tell me how to do that. I haven't managed it in almost thirteen years!"

"I know", he grinned. "It was all part of my plan to make you love me."

She snorted and shook her head at the man who could drive a saint crazy. "Right! For the past thirteen years?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

She frowned and then laughed. "I guess it did. It was either love you or shoot you – and believe me, it was a tough choice."

He grinned at her and closed his eyes, pleased that he'd managed to make her laugh and to relax.

"The doctor is supposed to be in soon", she told him after a minute. "We'll ask him about food. In the meantime, where is that damned nurse with the water?"

"Mmm, I am rather thirsty. Uh Teresa?"

"Yes?" she eyed him suspiciously.

"How about some tea?"

She stood up slowly. The least she could do was get him some tea. "Okay. I'll run down to the cafeteria and be right back."

"Really?" he asked hopefully. "I love you Teresa."

"Ha! You just love me because I bring you tea. You're a tea-pot lover Patrick!"

He waggled his eyebrows and watched as she left. Once she was gone he let out a sigh – wishing it still didn't hurt so much to breathe – and closed his eyes. A few moments later a young nursing assistant arrived with a carafe of water and a cup. He motioned to her to leave it and then settled back into a light doze.

"Good evening Patrick." Dr. Bardhan said, walking into his room a few minutes later.

"Uh hi Doctor." Patrick struggled to sit up and to wake up.

"Sorry I didn't get by earlier. It's been a busy day."

"That's okay. I can't say I missed being poked and prodded."

The doctor smiled. "No, I don't blame you. So, let me take a look at your chart." He lifted it off the end of the bed and looked at the notations from the nurses. Something made him frown and he flipped the page back and forth. "Has the nurse been in to see you recently?"

"Uh – not since early this afternoon", he answered. "She came in for a moment but then left."

"Mmm. Well, I'm going to send in the nurse in a moment because it looks like she didn't record anything", he frowned again. He then went on to ask a few more questions, looked at Patrick's wound, and finally nodded. "You're definitely improving and hopefully you can be out of here in a few more days. I'll tell them you can start eating light solids – I'm sure you'll be happy about that."

"Yes – although I'd prefer _solid_ solids."

The doctor smiled. "Well, it's a good sign you're hungry although I'm afraid your system would protest at heavy food. Just try something light tonight and see how you feel. By tomorrow you should be able to start eating regular food. We need to put some weight back on you." Dr. Bardhan replaced the chart. "I have to go and check on some of my other patients, but things are looking good Patrick. It will be frustrating for a while, but take it easy and soon you'll be back on your feet."

"Thank you", Jane gave the man a grateful smile, liking this doctor. If they could only all be like this he wouldn't hate the medical profession so much.

"Here you go", Teresa said, returning a few minutes later with a big cup of tea. "It's chamomile and doesn't have any caffeine so the nurse said you can have it."

"You checked?" he asked, sounding like he'd been betrayed.

"Of course. I can't trust you when it comes to tea Patrick."

He pouted for a moment, but then got a wiff of the hot liquid and gave in. He took a sip and sighed. "Heaven."

"Did the doctor come in to see you? I saw him in the hallway."

"Mmm hmm. He said I can go home in a couple of days. I also get to eat solid food now!"

"That's great. You'll feel much better when you're not so hungry."

"I'll feel better when I'm out of this place!"

By the time he'd eaten dinner – soup and a slice of toast – he was tired and ready for sleep. He really wanted Teresa to stay but knew she was also exhausted.

"Go home", he told her. "You need to sleep for your sake and junior's."

"I'm fine Patrick."

"Teresa. Go. Home. You can come back tomorrow first thing."

She let out a deep breath and finally agreed. "You're going to be okay?"

"Of course. I'm ready to sleep now anyway. I'll see you tomorrow."

She gave him a sweet kiss and then headed towards the door. Just before leaving she turned around. "Don't give the nurses any trouble tonight, okay?"

"Okay", he agreed readily, too tired to argue. "As long", he yawned, "as they don't", he yawned again, "poke me", he yawned for the third time, "again."

"Go to sleep", his love told him affectionately. He was out before the door had even closed.

The next morning was the first time he actually felt halfway alive. When one of the nurses looked in – an expression of trepidation on her face – he actually smiled. "Good morning. Are you here to take more blood?"

"No", she smiled. "Just removing the catheter. The doctor said you're good to go!"

He laughed at her pun. "I shall be soon, at any rate." He watched as she pushed aside the covers and then laid back and stared at the ceiling. He knew she was a nurse and used to this sort of thing, but he hated it. He didn't like to be touched by anyone not of his choosing and especially not down –

"There. All done." She said, removing all the paraphernalia. "I'll leave the urinal by your bed – I'm afraid you're not quite up to going to the bathroom by yourself, although soon you will. I'll be back in a bit to help you get out of bed and sit in the chair."

"Oh joy", he muttered, but at her look he smiled again. "I look forward to it."

Once he was sitting in the chair he realized he was back to being bored. He could only stare at the walls for so long without going crazy. He was going to have to get Teresa to tell him about the latest case his team was looking into. He could at least help out.

In the meantime he was going crazy. He finally succumbed and rang for the nurse. When she finally came he asked for what he wanted and she returned a few minutes later with a pad of paper and a pen.

He thanked her and then got down to work.

By the time Teresa came in he was deep in thought, the pen held between his lips and a frown on his face. So hard was he concentrating that it took him a moment to realize she was there.

"Teresa!" he said with a smile. "You're here."

"Morning." She leant over and gave him a kiss. "It's nice to see you sitting up."

"Mmm – sadistic nurses", he muttered.

"Are you in pain?" She looked at him carefully, and thought he looked a bit better this morning.

"Of course", he muttered, although he almost immediately smiled. "But I'm better now."

At that moment she noticed the pad of paper in his hand. As she sat in the chair beside him she nodded towards it. "What's that?"

"Nothing", he shrugged. He looked rather embarrassed and put his hand over the pad. "Just doodling."

"Patrick!"

"What?" He tried to look innocent but didn't succeed, looking even more uncomfortable.

"What is that? Come on – you're hiding something!"

"No", he shook his head and looked down at the pad. With another shrug he handed it to her.

She took it, wondering what in the world could make Patrick uncomfortable. He was not a man to let much bother him.

She stared down at the paper in front of her. There was a list of names – most of them men's names, although there were some women's names as well. What in the world? This couldn't be a case because she'd made all her co-worked swear, on pain of death, that they wouldn't involve Jane in any cases.

"What -?"

"Just some names", he replied, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"I can see that. But what are they about? Whose names are they?"

"Just names", he murmured. "Wanted to see which ones I liked."

"Which you – oh!" It suddenly dawned on her. She looked down again at the list and could feel her eyes tear up. "They're baby names."

"Mmm", he murmured, still keeping his eyes closed.

She wanted to hug him and kiss him silly – but two things stopped her. One, he was still sore and she didn't want to hurt him and two, he felt uncomfortable about the whole thing and she knew he didn't want a fuss made.

"So, let's see what you've got." She read the names to herself. A few of them had asterisks – she assumed they were his favorites, and a few were crossed out – clearly he didn't like those. "There are way more boy's names than girl's names here." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know something I don't know do you Patrick?"

"Who me? How would I know anything?"

"I don't know – but then you've often figured things out and I've had no idea how you did it. I sometimes wonder if you really _are_ psychic."

"Bite your tongue Teresa", he told her, opening his eyes and lifting his head from off the back of the chair. "You know I'm not. I just happen to know more boy names."

"Okay fine, have it your way. Now, let's see. Adam, Adrian, Aiden, Alexander – that's nice, how come you crossed it out?"

"My father's name", he said shortly.

"Oh – I'm sorry. I knew that." She returned to the list, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "Andrew – I kind of like that. It goes with Jane. Austin? I'm not sure about that. It might be confusing."

"Yeah, I agree."

"Benjamin – I assume you crossed it out because of Rigsby's kid?"

"Mmm hmm. Nice name but I want something different."

"Me too. Caelan and Caedan. Those are nice."

"Irish", he smiled. "Have to keep up the tradition."

"Was your mother Irish too Patrick?"

"English", he answered. "At least her parents were. She was born here."

"Explains the tea."

"Yeah", he smiled, suddenly seeming more relaxed. "So, you see anything on there you like?"

"Besides Caelan and Caedan? Well, I do like the Irish names – Connor, Declan, Ian."

"Ian's Scottish", he told her. "Sean is Irish."

"Really? Well, I still like it. Sean Jane? No – too short. Nicholas is nice. _Tiberius?_ Isn't that a bit – pretentious?"

He simply grinned but didn't say anything.

There were a few others that were just plain weird, like Ulysses and _"Uriah? _Now that's just plane ugly Patrick". She knew darn well he'd put the unusual names there to amuse her, even if he hadn't been a hundred percent sure he wanted to show her the list. At least she hoped so.

"Matthew, Michael, Timothy, Thomas – those are all very nice but not very original."

"No, but it's hard to find something that goes with Jane."

"How about Patrick?"

He grimaced. "I wouldn't want to name a kid after me", he told her. She immediately swatted him, knowing where that had come from and refusing to allow it.

"It's a good name from a good man. I'd be proud to name our son after you."

He looked uncomfortable again, and instead of replying to that asked her a question. "So, what about the girl's names."

"Abigail, Adalyn, Adrienne, Beatrice." She noticed that had an asterisk and she wondered why. It didn't quite seem a name Jane would pick. She glanced up at him.

"My mother's name", he told her, although he looked down when he said it.

"Oh. Okay." She continued on with the list. "Alexandra – uh, it's not crossed out?"

"No. I like it for a girl."

"Yeah, it's a pretty name and it goes well with Jane."

He nodded but didn't say anything more. She continued reading. There were a number of more popular names, although a number of those were crossed out including Emma – "too many", he said. She agreed. "Kaitlin, Makayla, Riley – I like that, Erin, Molly, Kira, Tara and -" She looked up at him, surprised at the final name.

"I thought – maybe a middle name?" He sounded so hesitant, so unsure that she wanted to hug him.

"Of course", she said softly, covering his hand with hers. "Charlotte is a lovely name and it will be a great way to remember her."

He nodded, but didn't speak for a moment. "What about you? What names do you like?"

"Well, I like most of the names on your list, again I especially like the Irish ones. They do go nicely with Jane." She shook her head. "It's going to be hard."

"What about your mother's name? What was it?"

"Katherine", she told him softly. "I've always liked that."

"How about Katherine Charlotte?"

"Katherine Charlotte Jane?" She thought a moment. "Sounds very regal."

"Of course. We'll have two – Katherine and Tiberius, the perfect family!"

She giggled and stood up and gave him another kiss. "Thank you."

"For what?" he looked surprised.

"For doing this. I know it's hard for you and I – I appreciate it."

"Hey, I may still panic now and then, but I _am_ happy about this you know."

"I know."

"And I don't want to have a nameless kid."

"Of course not."

"And it _is_ only six weeks away."

"Oh God", she leaned her head until it was resting on Jane's shoulder. "Six weeks Jane. What am I going to do? I don't know how to look after babies."

"You will", he told her affectionately. "And you're going to be great. I mean, you've looked after me all these years. A baby can't be harder than that!"

She giggled. "You're right." She stopped for a few seconds, thinking about the years ahead. Suddenly her head lifted from his shoulder and she frowned. "But it will be _your_ kid." Her head plopped back down. "Oh no."

He simply smiled and put his hand on her head. He suddenly could hardly wait to see his son or daughter.

_**So – I would love people's thoughts/suggestions/votes on baby names.**_

.

"


	33. Of Readiness and Rooms

_**Thank you all for the name suggestions! Now to decide which ...?**_

_**and now ... fluffity, fluff, fluff**_

Patrick slowly improved over the next few days and as a result was much less irritable. He also began to get more visitors as Teresa let it be known he was well enough to receive them.

Teresa watched as a number of FBI agents dropped in – his team of course came but there were a surprisingly large number of others as well. Jane was uncomfortable with the attention, never knowing quite how to handle people showing him kindness or appreciation. In the past he would have insulted everyone, or played one of his tricks, his self-defense mechanism. This time he seemed to realize that neither were appropriate and so was on his best behavior.

The result was she got to see a gentler, rather shy man, who was embarrassed by overtures of friendship and respect.

She was surprised and touched, but more than that she came to realize how thick were the walls he'd built around himself. She knew they were as a result of fear and self-hatred and she was determined to begin to help him tear them down. He deserved to experience not only love, but friendship and the respect of his colleagues.

And others needed to see the real Jane. She was one of the few whom he had allowed to see the caring and compassionate man who lived beneath that brash and arrogant exterior. She knew what a wonderful person he really was – even when he did his damndest to prove otherwise – and she wanted others to know.

Rigsby and Grace stayed for a couple of days after they were sure Jane was going to be okay. Grace came in to see him as soon as he was well enough and immediately enveloped him in a gentle hug.

"Hey you", she said softly, "You did good."

He patted her back, still uncomfortable with overt affection from anyone but Teresa. "Yes, well -", he shrugged, not sure how to respond. "Thanks by the way – for being here for Teresa."

"There isn't anywhere else we'd be", Grace said, stepping back and wiping her eyes. She regarded him earnestly. "I knew the two of you would be good together. You've made her really happy." There was a pause and then she grinned. "You're going to rip those sheets if you keep twisting them like that Jane."

Patrick immediately dropped the sheet he'd been playing with, and looked up at her, a sheepish look on his face. "I - " he grimaced. "She makes me happy too."

"I know", Grace answered gently. "And you deserve happiness. Oh hey", she said, knowing it was time to change the subject, "I brought you some fresh blueberry muffins!"

"You, Grace Van Pelt, are a brilliant woman!" He eagerly took the preferred muffin and bit into it, a look of ecstasy on his face.

Grace watched him seriously, but inside she was smiling.

Unfortunately the Rigsby's had to leave the next day but said they'd come back when the baby arrived. There were lots of hugs – although Jane scowled at Wayne when he tried to approach him – and promised to stay in touch. After they were gone Jane dozed, his lips turned up in a smile.

He also received visits from the people in his bereavement group, except Andrea of course. It was interesting to see how much more comfortable he was with them than with the FBI folks. He still reacted nervously when people told him he was a hero for what he'd done.

"What did they expect me to do", he griped? "You're my – well, my love – and you're carrying my child. Of c_ourse_ I'd protect you."

She wondered if he had any idea of how wonderful he really was? Jane was not naturally a man who knew how to deal with violence. He was not a fighter. But the fact that he took it for granted that he would protect her and their baby, regardless of the danger he faced, showed the kind of person he truly was.

She leaned forward and gave him a deep and passionate kiss. Knowing it couldn't go anywhere – not in the hospital and not when he was still ill – she pulled back. She wanted to laugh at his dazed look.

"What was that for?"

"I just wanted to kiss you."

"Okay." He regarded her closely for a moment and then his mischievous grin appeared. "You can do it again."

"I don't know if you can handle it", she told him, only half kidding. "You still look pale."

"It'll bring color to my cheeks", he suggested with a smirk. When she didn't budge he sighed. "I guess not, although I wouldn't mind trying. Damn. I really hate getting shot."

He'd been in the hospital just over a week when the doctor deemed him well enough to go home. "You're going to have to take it easy, or you're going to end up back inside", he told Patrick seriously. "But I think you'll be much happier at home – and I _know_ the nurses will be happier", he grinned.

Patrick smiled. "I have no idea why, but I definitely want to go home and I'll be good."

"No you won't", Teresa muttered. At the doctor's surprised look she grimaced. "He's a very bad patient, but I'll keep him under control."

The doctor nodded, looking amused. "I'm sure you will. I'll give the nurse final instructions and she'll explain everything to you. And next time, I wouldn't suggest stepping in front of a bullet."

"I'll try and remember that", Jane agreed. He then stuck his hand out, looking self-conscious. "Thank you."

"Ready to go?" Teresa looked at him as he sat on the side of his bed. He was dressed although he was still missing his shoes. He looked uncomfortable although he had a grin on his face.

"_So_ ready" he agreed. "Uh – could you help me with my shoes?", he said, wigging his feet. It was too difficult for him to bend over yet and he was carefully cradling his chest with his arm.

"Sure." She looked around until she found his usual brown shoes. She picked them up and brought them over. "Uh Jane – don't you think it's about time to get new shoes?"

"Why? They're perfectly good. I had them resoled not long ago."

"Well, it's not just the soles", she told him with a look. "It's – everything." She grabbed a chair and sat down and then proceeded to put on his shoes.

He didn't respond as he watched her. He knew it was silly, knew he should just agree – or tell her his reason – but he couldn't. He'd given up his ring, he was focused on his life with Teresa – but the shoes – they were his last link to Angela and he couldn't deal with letting them go, at least not yet.

"Hey", she stood up and leaned into him. "If you want to keep them that's okay", she told him, seeming to realize that there was something here he wasn't saying. "I won't bug you about them."

He nodded and leaned into her for a moment. "Thank you", he murmured quietly." After a moment he sat up. "Let's go", he said finally. "I want to get out of here."

"Hey – how're you doing?" Cho was standing in the doorway, ready to lend a hand.

"Hi Cho", Patrick smiled and gave a wave. "You here to help Teresa take me home."

"Yes. Figured you were too much for her to handle alone."

They arrived home a short while later and Cho helped Jane into the bedroom. "You okay?"

"Mmm hmm", he murmured, carefully lying down on the bed. He let out a huge sigh and closed his eyes. "That's good."

Cho continued to watch him for the next few minutes, until he could see that Jane had fallen asleep. He turned to head back to the other room and saw Teresa standing in the doorway looking tired but obviously relieved to have him back. She glanced up at Cho and smiled and then motioned for him to follow her.

"Thanks Cho. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Sure." He sat at the kitchen table and watched as Teresa fixed the coffee. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine. Happy to have him back home. It's been – tough."

"I know. I'm glad he's doing better. We were all worried, about both of you."

"I'm fine" she said, ignoring Cho's skeptical look. "At least I'm fine now that he's getting better."

"If you need anything, let me know. I'd hate for Jane to have gotten through this just to have you kill him because he's driving you crazy."

She laughed at that. "I've managed to keep from going crazy all these years so I think I'll be okay and I know how to control him."

"Alright – but I'd better go now, before you start telling me _how_ you control him – something I don't think I want to know."

She gave Cho a hug, thanking him for all his help, and watched as he left. With a sigh she turned and headed back towards the bedroom.

She crawled up on the bed and carefully snuggled up against the warm, still body of the man she loved. Gently putting her hand on his stomach, below the bandages, she was soon asleep along with him.

"I'm _fine_ Teresa. You can go to work."

"But what if you need something", she frowned. She'd taken a few days off when he'd first come home, but he was now insisting he was doing well enough for her to head back in.

"Then I'll get up and get it. I'm not completely useless you know."

"I never said you were _useless_, but you are still recuperating. I worry about you."

"And I appreciate it but I'm fine! I have a phone and if something comes up I'll give you a call. Look, I'm not going to do anything foolish. I'm just going to read and maybe watch some TV. There are left-overs in the refrigerator, I'm perfectly capable of making myself a cup of tea and _I'll be fine_!"

"Okay, okay, I get the point. Geesh, I get the feeling you don't want me here."

He groaned. "Teresa, I love having you here but _you_ are the one going crazy with boredom. I don't need a babysitter. I'll be okay and you need to get out and go to work." He finally took her by the shoulders and pulled her forward. Bending slightly he gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll miss you but I really will be alright and I promise I'll call if I need anything."

"Alright, I'm going. But you promise you'll -"

" – call? Yes, I will. Oh, by the way, can you pick up some of those muffins Grace brought me on your way home?"

When she frowned he defended himself by telling her that the doctor told him he had to gain weight.

"Yes, but that's by eating healthy food."

"Muffins have blueberries and they're high in antioxidants."

She finally gave in, both on going to work and on buying him muffins. She sat in her car for a few minutes before starting the engine, surprised at how nervous she was about leaving Patrick alone. It's not that she thought he'd do anything foolish, but rather she was feeling rather paranoid that something else could happen to him. Shaking her head she finally started the car and headed in to work.

Jane puttered around the house all morning since he didn't have anything he really wanted to read and there was nothing on TV that interested him. He fixed himself a snack but he still didn't have much of an appetite so only picked at his food. He was bored but wasn't well enough to be doing anything interesting. He'd rarely been sick in his life and didn't do convalescing well at all.

He wandered around the house a few more times, opening random cupboards and drawers, not looking for anything in particular but trying to pass the time. It was when he'd opened the door to the spare bedroom, for the second time, that he finally figured out something he could do.

Because his fear of having a child, Lisbon still walked lightly around the whole subject. He felt terrible about that and wanted to be able to make it up to her somehow. He thought back to her reaction when he'd just written out some baby names and knew it was time to do something more.

They had nothing for the baby, who was going to be with them shortly, and figured he had to do something about that. He was pretty sure that the folks at work would hold a baby shower, but that would still leave most things they still had to get. He leaned up against the door of the spare bedroom – a room basically used for storage at this point – and decided it was time to get it ready.

With that in mind he went and grabbed Teresa's laptop and opened it up. He still didn't like computers very much, but since he couldn't exactly go out shopping – well, he could, but Teresa would kill him – he might as well look things up on line.

By the time Teresa got home that day he'd managed to plan out the entire nursery. He avoided anything too cutesy and tried to keep the colors soft but neutral since they didn't know whether it was a boy or girl. He'd also put in a quick call to Grace, swearing her to secrecy, but getting some good and practical advice from her.

He'd ordered just about everything on-line that a baby could possibly need. The problem he was faced with was how to paint, put up curtains and generally decorate the room? He wasn't particularly skilled in any of those things and knew he'd be in serious trouble if he tried.

Well, that's what friends were for. With a grin he picked up the phone. "Hey Cho, it's me."

Over the next couple of weeks items began to arrive at the house. He didn't have trouble hiding the small stuff, it was the bigger items that were a problem. In the end he went to the next-door neighbors and put on his most charming smile. He hadn't really spoken to them before, but by the end of his visit he figured he had made some new friends – and a place to store all the baby furniture.

With Cho's help, and promise of silence, he managed to get a number of FBI agents, plus some of the people from the bereavement group, to agree to help get the room fixed up. He still couldn't do anything too physical, so he'd do the project management and make sure there was enough food and drinks to feed the small army that was coming to help.

In the end they had to get Vega involved in order to keep Teresa away long enough to get the work done. She agreed to help – and not only agreed – but came through in a big way. She planned an all-day baby shower/spa day for Teresa and some of the women agents at work.

"You need to pamper yourself", Jane said when she told him about the invitation. "You're not going to have time once the baby comes. Look, if you're still worried about me I'll invite Cho over to spend the day. We can watch movies and drink – yes, I know – _he_ can drink beer, I'll have soda! Come on Lisbon – you need this."

She'd finally agreed, much to his relief, and the following Saturday she got all her things together and waited for Agent Lopez to pick her up. "I hate leaving you here all day", she told him. "I was hoping we could spend some time together."

"That would have been nice", he gave her a quick peck on the nose, "but this way you'll be all relaxed and mellow and we can spend tomorrow together."

"You're not going to be bored?"

"Me bored? No. And anyway I invited Cho and one of the guys from the support group over to watch the game."

She stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown horns. She'd never heard Patrick talk about inviting friends over and certainly never that he wanted to sit and watch sports. "You're sure someone hasn't switched you with _another_ Patrick Jane?" she asked.

"Of course not Teresa", he shook his head. "But I want you to have a good time and this way you'll know I'm neither bored nor getting into trouble."

"Good point", she nodded. A few minutes later she was gone. Jane checked his watch – they had seven hours to get everything done.

A few minutes later his workers started to arrive. He sent half of them to his neighbors to begin putting furniture together while the other half began to paint.

By noon the room was painted and most of the furniture was together. Everyone stopped to grab pizza and a drink but they were soon back to work. Everyone wanted to finish before Teresa got home. By 2:00 the curtains had been hung, and pictures and shelved were being hung on the walls.

By 3:00 the last minute decorating was being done. Patrick had borrowed someone's Ipad and was Facetiming with Grace. He walked her through the room and she gave him ideas on where things should go. The others didn't allow him to actually do anything other than give instructions.

By 3:45 everything was finished. The workers scrambled to remove any traces of their visit and soon left. He'd told them they could stay, but Abbott told him everyone had agreed that it was better for it just to be him there when Teresa returned.

"You can tell us how she reacted later." Abbott walked by and squeezed his shoulder. "This was a nice thing you did."

"I didn't really do any of it", he answered, looking at the people who were departing, one by one. "Thanks everyone", he told them with a crooked smile. "I appreciate this."

"You owe us now", Abbott told him with a smirk. "I'm going to make sure and exact payment when you return."

"I already owed you", Jane said quietly, "and I'm more than happy to pay."

He watched in the doorway as everyone departed and then turned around and made his way to the couch. He was exhausted and in some pain even though he hadn't really done anything strenuous. Still, he'd been on his feet most of the day and he knew he'd overdone it. But it was worth it.

At least he hoped it was. He was a bit nervous, hoping that Teresa would like the room and the fact that he'd done it without her input. He sighed and rested his head back. Oh well, it was done now. He might as well just rest until she got home.

It was almost 4:30 by the time Teresa returned. She was exhausted but pleasantly relaxed. It had been a fun day and the first time she'd had a chance to really get to know some of her women co-workers.

They'd spent part of the day at the spa, which had included a pregnancy massage, a manicure, pedicure and facial and a gourmet lunch outside in a beautiful garden setting. They had gone from there to Stephanie Curtis' house, where they'd played some silly party games and had cake. At the end they'd brought out a stack of gifts and she'd had a fun time opening them.

As she lifted out little onesies and baby outfits everything suddenly – for the first time – became real. In just a few short weeks she was going to be using these items on a real live baby.

It was thrilling and frightening and completely overwhelming. It hit her that they were terribly underprepared. God, they hadn't even purchased a crib or anything. Some of the agents had chipped in together and had purchased her – them – a highchair. There was also another big item – this one from her team. When she opened the huge box she discovered that they'd given them a stroller.

Other than those two big items they didn't have any furniture or supplies for the baby. She was going to have to call Grace and get her to give her some tips on what sorts of things she should buy. She hated that she was going to have to do it alone, but she really couldn't expect Patrick to help her. For one thing he wasn't well enough and on the other she was pretty sure it was still too much to ask of him to handle emotionally.

Thanking everyone with hugs and smiles she was soon on her way home. She'd given Patrick a quick call just after lunch and he told her he was fine but she was anxious to get home and make sure. She still didn't quite believe he was okay.

She knew she'd probably live with the fear of losing him for a long time. It struck her again how hard it must be for Patrick. She hadn't lost him and she was terrified – how much more difficult must it be for him, a man who had lost everything once.

No wonder the thought of a child terrified him. She sighed and turned the corner onto their street. She should stop thinking about these things. She was too tired and she just needed to see and hold him.

She let herself into the house quietly. The presents were safely stowed in the trunk of her car and she decided to leave them there until Patrick was sleeping. He didn't need to see all that gear and she could sneak it into the guest room later today.

She smiled when she saw him lying on the couch, sound asleep. She made her way over and carefully sat on the edge beside him. "Hey sleepyhead", she whispered, gently pushing back his hair.

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes and smiled. "Hey. You're back."

"I am", she nodded. "How are you doing?"

"Me?" He struggled to sit up. "I'm fine. Did you just get home?"

"Mmm hmm", she told him. "Just walked in the door."

"How was your day?"

"Wonderful", she smiled. "I could definitely get used to going to a spa regularly. I even got a massage just for pregnant women."

"Good!" he leaned forward and kissed her. "I'm glad you had a good time. Uh – where's the loot?"

"The loot?"

"It was a baby shower, wasn't it?"

"Yes." She paused. "Uh – it's in the trunk. I can get it later."

"Why don't we get it now. I can help."

"That's okay", she told him quickly. "I can handle it. You shouldn't -"

"Teresa – I'm totally up to bringing in a few bags of baby clothes."

"Nope." She smiled and stood. "You stay here. It won't take me a moment. Uh – there's a highchair and stroller. I may wait until tomorrow to bring those in."

"Okay", he nodded. He'd known about the chair and stroller as people had asked him about some larger ticket items he hadn't yet purchased. With those things he was pretty sure they had just about everything they needed.

"I'll just put this stuff in the spare room", she panted as she walked in.

"No – wait." He pushed himself up, hating how weak he still felt. "Why don't I help you with this?" He took one of the bags out of her arms. "Okay, let's go."

She gave him a strange look, sensing that something was going on. With a tiny frown she headed towards the spare bedroom, thinking that that was going to have to be the baby's room and she'd better get a move on getting it ready. She pushed open the door and slowly dropped the bag of baby clothes.

She gasped. "What the - ?" Her eyes scanned the room, trying to take in everything around her. "What is this?" she asked faintly.

"A present", he told her, somewhat anxiously. "I hope you like it?"

She continued to gaze at the transformed room. "But how in the world did you accomplish this?" She suddenly whipped around, staring at him with reproachful eyes. "You didn't do this on your own did you?"

"No", he told her. "All I did was design it. They wouldn't let me do anything other than order pizza or answer questions about which way you'd like certain things."

"Who is 'they'?" she asked, still sounding slightly strange. "And when did this happen?"

"Uh – the team, except for Vega, although she was in on the whole thing, some of the guys from work and a few from my support group – and they did it today, while you were out."

She continued to look around the room and he grew more and more nervous. Was she angry? Did she hate it? What was wrong?"

Before he'd even had a chance to finish that last thought, she was in front of him. Her eyes tracked his face for a brief few seconds, and then she was holding his head in her hands and she kissed him.

It took a while for both of them to come up for air, but when they did it took a moment for either of them to speak.

"Thank you", she breathed. "This is – amazing and gorgeous and God, I love you so much!"

"I love you too. Do you really like it?" He looked around at the room with its neutral taupe's and creams. He then gazed at the oval crib, the change table and dresser that matched. It was an elegant room, but not one that was meant as a showpiece, but rather to be lived in. "I got you a rocking chair. Try it out."

She sat in it and sighed. "It's amazing. You might not get me out of here. Thank you", she said again. She started checking things out more carefully, now that she had recovered from the shock. She couldn't believe how well he'd gauged her style. It was perfect.

"It'll work for either a boy or girl", she told him softly. "It's so beautiful and peaceful and calm. I love it."

"I know", he smiled and walked towards the chair. He took the hand she reached out to him and pulled her up, into his arms.

"Now all we have to do is agree on a couple of names and we're all set", he told her as he stroked her belly.

"I still say no to Tiberius."

"Mmm", he murmured as they moved slowly, together, towards their bedroom. "How about Claudius?"


	34. Of Love and Commitment

She couldn't help smiling. What Jane and their friends had done was amazing. With all the pain and fear she knew he still dealt with, Jane had still managed to put her and their child first. And on top of that, he'd actually accepted the help and friendship of others. Teresa decided she really did believe in miracles.

"So you liked it?' Cho asked as she came in to work the next day. Without saying a word she walked over to him and hugged him.

"Thank you", she whispered. "It's beautiful."

"It was all Jane's idea", he told her.

"I know. He got more than a hug."

"Way too much information Teresa."

She grinned and proceeded to walk around the office and give hugs to everyone. Vega looked a bit embarrassed but accepted the hug, feeling as if she'd finally been forgiven for hurting Jane.

"You didn't suspect?" she asked the older agent.

"No", Teresa laughed. "It was a total surprise."

"And you like it?"

"I _love_ it. It's perfect."

"I can hardly wait to see it", Michelle smiled. "Some of the guys said it was pretty amazing. They had fun."

"So did I", Teresa told her. "Thanks again for yesterday."

"You're welcome. Any excuse to go to a spa!"

"You can say that again."

As Teresa worked away at her desk – with frequent breaks to go to the bathroom – she thought about what Jane had done and where their relationship was going. She knew one thing for certain, she loved him and wanted to spend her life with him.

The next logical step was marriage. He had indicated he was open to the idea and part of her liked the thought of being married when the baby came. She grimaced then, looking down at her stomach. It would mean not having a fancy wedding – but did that matter? She considered it and then smiled. Jane had pulled off an amazing surprise that had warmed her to her toes. She needed to do the same for him.

By the time she got home that evening, tired and ready to collapse on the bed, she was still no closer to figuring out a plan than she had been when she'd decided to do this. Somehow she needed to propose to him and make it special. What was less clear to her was what something special would be for him.

She sighed and rubbed her lower back. How was it that after all these years she still struggled to figure out what would please him? She knew the reason was because for years his whole being had focused on Red John. Since they'd gotten together his attention had been on loving her and then on getting past the fear of having a child. She couldn't remember a time when he'd focused on what he wanted to do.

So, what did Patrick Jane like? What would please him, excite him, make him get that look he'd gotten when she'd told him she felt the same. She groaned and put her feet up, frustrated at herself and, if truth be told, at the man who was so hard to figure out, still!

"What's wrong?" Jane came and sat on the end of the couch. He took her feet and put them on his lap and proceeded to give her a foot rub.

"Oh, that feels good. I can't even _reach_ my feet."

"You will soon", he grinned.

"Yeah, but then I won't have the time to worry about them", she grumped. She was feeling tired and out of sorts and very frustrated.

"So, I ask again Teresa – what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Okay, okay", she hastened to say when she saw his brows go up. "I'm tired and ready to have this baby."

"And that's it?" he regarded her closely. "There's something else too. Care to share?"

How the hell did he do that? After twelve years she was still no closer to figuring out how Patrick seemed to read minds like that. She knew it wouldn't help to ask because while it was true he was very observant – and would explain that to her – she was convinced that even he didn't always know how he discerned things.

"Patrick?"

"Mmm? What?"

"What do you like to do?"

"What do I like to _do?" _he asked, surprised.

"Yes. I mean, are there things you'd like to do – you know, as a hobby?"

"I -" he stopped and frowned slightly. "What is this about?"

"Nothing – I was just thinking that even after all this time I don't know what you like to do for fun."

"For fun?" he laughed softly. "Teresa, _you're_ my fun."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, I know that driving me crazy has given you hours of fun over the years, but I mean besides that."

"There isn't a 'besides that'," he told her. "And it's not just teasing you that I enjoy. I like spending time with you, talking with you", he waggled his brows, "making love with you. That's what I like doing."

She looked carefully at him and could tell that he was serious. As much as it warmed her at one level, on another she realized that he needed to expand his interests. He had to develop a life outside of her if they were to have a healthy relationship moving forward. It's not that she didn't want to spend most of her time with him, but she knew they both needed other outlets than one another.

Jane sighed. "Okay Teresa – what are you thinking? No", he put up his hand and stopped her, "I know. You think I need to have something other than you. Okay – so what do I like to do? Let me think." He stared down at the small little foot in his hand – the slightly swollen foot – and thought hard. He'd given up the thought of fun when his family had been killed. His whole life had focused on getting the man who had killed them. His life had begun to open up when he slowly realized that Teresa had become essential to his very being, but he'd never thought in terms of enjoyment or fun or even anything about doing anything for himself, other than to try and deal with all his demons.

So – fun. He closed his eyes, trying to remember back in the days when Angela and Charlotte were alive. What had he liked to do? There hadn't been much, even then, as he'd been focused on getting ahead with his career. The fun he had was spending time with his wife and daughter. _They_ had been his life, his fun.

But then he thought about something he did love, and that was being by the ocean. He'd loved that – he loved boats and swimming and had thought about buying a sail boat and learning to sail. In fact he'd been seriously looking into it when he'd lost everything of importance. Suddenly the thought of being on the water, of sailing, appealed to him again.

Unfortunately Austin wasn't by the ocean, although it wasn't _that_ far a drive. Maybe he and Teresa could go on the occasional weekend?

"Jane?" Teresa's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Huh? What?"

She grinned at him. "You looked like you were a long way away."

He returned her grin. "Not that far. Just by the ocean."

"The ocean?"

"Yeah. I realized what I like. I like the ocean and I'd like to learn to sail."

"_Really_?" she said, sounding surprised. Somehow she hadn't ever thought of Patrick as the outdoors type, although considering he spent two years on a tropical island – and the trick he'd played to get her to Islamorada – she should have realized. She remembered the walk they'd taken by the beach and knew she'd found what she was looking for. "I didn't know you liked the water that much."

He shrugged. "Why do you think I bought a house in Malibu", he said seriously. "I – Angela and I", he paused and then continued. "We were going to buy a sail boat and learn to sail. I love the beach and the ocean."

"O –kay", she said, still sounding a bit incredulous. After a second she relaxed and smiled. "As long as you don't pick up any beach bunnies!"

"Meh", he said in disgust. "Not in the slightest interested in beach bunnies", he told her. "Regular bunnies – yes. They're very cuddly. In fact we should get a couple for the kid. But as for the other kind, you're all the bunny I want."

She looked down at her stomach and grimaced. "More like a hippopotamus."

"Teresa, _stop_ that. I've told you, you're beautiful". He leaned over slightly until he could rest his hand on her stomach. "_This _is the most wonderful, amazing thing in the world, and if you think I don't look at you in awe, every single day, then you're crazy."

"I think_ you're_ crazy", she told him softly, although her lips couldn't help but curl up.

"Not crazy", he shook his head. "Lucky."

* * *

Well now she knew. Patrick loved the ocean and wanted to sail. Who would have thought? Picking up the phone she called Grace – her buddy in all things Jane.

"Hi Grace, it's Teresa. I need your help."

* * *

"Do you think this is a good idea?" Jane glanced at Teresa who was sitting in the passenger seat looking decidedly uncomfortable. "It's just a few weeks until the baby comes."

"I'm fine. It's not like I'm flying and it's only a two and a half hour drive. How about you? How are you holding up?" Jane was doing much better now, but he still tired easily and she was worried about him driving so far.

"I'm okay but it'll be more like five hours", he muttered.

"It will not!"

"Teresa, we've been on the road less than an hour and we've already had to stop twice so that you could pee! At this rate we won't make it before tomorrow."

She scowled but had to acknowledge he was right. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. No – it was and she would just have to tell the baby to stop jumping on her bladder.

Ten minutes later she spoke. "Patrick?"

"Yeah?" he glanced over.

"Uh – could you stop at the next gas station?"

He sighed but nodded and a moment later pulled over. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes I'm sure. It's simply that your child takes after you and is trying to drive me insane! I'll be right back."

In the end it took them three and a half hours to make it to the coast. In a way that wasn't bad as it forced Patrick to take the occasional rest and to stretch his legs. He found himself not only more tired than usual, his back and shoulders were stiff.

"Okay, where to?" Jane looked over at her, wondering what was going on. She'd been completely secretive about this weekend away and wouldn't tell him exactly where they were going. He had to admit he was dying of curiosity.

"Let me see?" She pulled out her smart phone and keyed in the address. "Turn left at the light ahead. She continued to direct him until they pulled into a parking lot at a small marina.

Jane looked around, still curious as to what Teresa was up to. "Alright, we're here. Now what?"

"Now let's get our things." She didn't bring much with them, and so each of them only had a small bag – a good thing since neither of them was up to carrying much weight.

She made her way down towards the boats, remembering the directions she'd been given. She finally came to a boat and stopped. "This is it."

Jane looked at the beautiful 45-foot sailboat in front of him. "The Knotty Buoy?"

She grinned. "I kind of liked the name."

He laughed. "Uh, who's is it?"

"A friend of a friend – actually – of a friend's. But it's ours for the weekend."

"Uh – I don't know how to actually sail", he reminded her.

"I know", she leaned into him. "We'll stay docked for now – I don't think I should go out on the water anyway. With my balance I'd be overboard in a second."

"But you'd look cute floating in the ocean", he grinned. "OW! What did you do that for?" he asked, rubbing his shoulder.

"Behave! Even though we can't go out now, the owner has offered to give you some sailing lessons whenever you want."

"Really?" He stared at the boat again but with a pleased expression. "That sounds like fun, but I'm not quite sure what this is all about."

"You deserve something nice and you said you wanted to sail. Well, for this weekend we can stay here and spend time on the beach. It's not quite sailing, but as close as I could get. Is that okay?"

"Okay?" he bent slightly and kissed her gently on the lips. "It's wonderful. I love you."

"Good, because I wouldn't do this for just anyone you know", she smirked.

He grinned. "Show me the boat woman!" He helped her get on board, a little worried that even the gentle movement of the docked boat might be difficult for her. He also had to be careful, feeling a bit wobbly after their long drive. Once they were both on board he kept a tight hold of her to steady them both but couldn't help but look around. He whistled. "Nice. Who did you say this belonged to?"

"It belongs to the brother of a client of Grace and Wayne's. I guess he got wrongly accused of a serious crime and the Rigsby's were able to help him out. The guy was really grateful and so was his brother, so when I mentioned to Grace that you wanted to sail she got in touch with them. The brother – his name's Ken Ardsley – said he's looking forward to teaching you, if you want to do it that is."

"Mmm – definitely. Maybe I'll buy one of our own once I know how to sale."

She laughed. "Right. I'm sure this thing is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars."

"Probably", he agreed. "But it would be worth it."

"And how are you going to get hundreds of thousands of dollars to buy a boat?"

"I told you Teresa – I have some money saved."

"_That_ much money?"

"Mmm", he said, wandering around the deck.

"If you had that much money, how come you didn't bale yourself out those times when you were in prison?"

"Couldn't exactly access it very easily", he shrugged. He turned back to her and smiled. "This is great. Where are we staying?"

"In the main cabin, which I assume is down these stairs."

The two of them explored the boat, which only took a few minutes. It was laid out extremely well and was obviously very expensive. It was actually bigger than it seemed from the outside and certainly bigger than Jane's Airstream. The master cabin had a huge king-size bed in it and an attached bathroom (or more technically the head, since they were on a boat). By the time they were done looking at everything – Jane opened every door and hatch – he had a huge grin on his face.

"This is great!" he told her with a kiss. "I definitely want one of these."

"Well, let's enjoy this borrowed one first." She glanced at her watch. "The food should be here shortly."

"Food?" he asked hopefully. "You've arranged for food?"

"Mmm hmm", she grinned. "Of course. This weekend is a treat for you and I would never ignore the importance of feeding you right."

"You, Teresa Lisbon, are a priceless woman. Have I told you that before?"

Just then there was a shout from above and Jane quickly climbed up, to see two men standing on the dock, holding a number of containers.

"We're here from La Gloutonnerie", one of the men said. "Where shall we set up?"

Lisbon had arrived by this time and pointed to a spot on the top deck. Within moments a table and two chairs appeared and the table was set with linen and crystal and silver. The two men laid out the food, uncorked a bottle of wine and lit the candles on the table.

"Please, take a seat Monsieur, Madame", one of the men said in a heavy – but apparently real – French accent. "As per the lady's instructions, we will leave the food in the warmers. I have opened a bottle of wine for you Monsieur, the lady has mineral water. Bon appetite." Within a few seconds both men were gone.

Jane sat staring at the vast array of gourmet food, his stomach rumbling. "La Gloutonnerie is a very appropriate name", he murmured. "There is enough food to feed -"

"To feed?" she prodded when he stopped.

"Wayne", he chuckled. "This is amazing Teresa. Did you order all of this?"

"Yes – and we'd better eat it while it's still hot."

Over the next hour they slowly savored a wonderful variety of French dishes. Teresa could only eat tiny portions, as the baby didn't allow much room for anything. Patrick attempted to restrain himself but she could tell he was enjoying the food greatly. By the time they'd reached the cheese course at the end of the meal he was looking quite stuffed.

"Had enough?" she smirked.

"Are you kidding? I'm afraid I'm going to sink the boat if I eat anymore. That was fantastic! You are an evil, evil woman Teresa Lisbon!" He leaned back in his chair, trying to stretch out to give his overfull stomach some room.

"It was good, wasn't it?" she smiled. She then lifted her glass. "How about a toast?"

"Good idea. What shall it be?"

"To life and to happiness", she said softly.

"To life and to _you_ Teresa", he told her, looking into her eyes. "Because you are my happiness."

They clinked glasses and drank – keeping their tear-shining eyes on one another.

"Patrick", she said softly, a moment later.

"Hmm?" He continued to gaze at her.

She reached out and took his hand gently in hers. "Marry me?"

He blinked at her a couple of times, looking slightly stunned. "What?" he whispered.

"Marry me? I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you?"

He swallowed, unable to breathe or to speak. Finally, after managing a few choppy breaths he spoke. "Are you sure? I'm not the best -" Her hand came out and gently covered his mouth.

"You _are_ the best – you are the best for me. Patrick, I'm not jumping into this. I've known you for almost thirteen years so I know exactly what I'm getting into. I'm getting a kind, gentle, compassionate man, who believes in honor and justice and working to help others. I'm getting a brilliant, funny, irritating, infuriating, exasperating, surprising man. I'm also getting an extremely handsome and sexy one. And I love each and every one of you. So please, marry me?"

He took a deep breath and then clasped her hand in his. He reached out for her other hand as well and held it. "Teresa", he said carefully. "I will always have trouble believing that I deserve someone like you. You said all those wonderful things about me, but I know, as well as anyone, that I am far, far from perfect. I also know that you saved me more times than I can count, often from myself, and you brought light back into my very dark world."

He took another breath. "If you are _positive_ that you want me I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure you never regret this."

"So?" she said with a small smile.

"So, yes, I will marry you."

"Tomorrow? Will you marry me tomorrow?"

He looked at her in surprise, but then nodded. "You want to get married before the baby", he realized.

"Yes, but that's not the main reason", she told him. "Mostly I just want us to make this official, to let our friends and family know we're a couple and that we're together, forever." When he didn't say anything she gave a small laugh. "Am I being silly?"

"Silly?" He looked at her seriously. "Not silly at all. You're being", he looked lost for words for a minute and then smiled gently. "You're being Teresa." He leaned across the table – just like he had that day at the Miami airport – and gave her a soft and gentle kiss.

They sat, holding hands on the gently swaying boat. The sky was dark, the stars shone brightly, and the wind blew softly. Finally Patrick stood and pulled Teresa up beside him and gently put his arms around her. "I love you", he murmured softly.

The two of them stood like that for a long, long time. It was finally Patrick who pulled back. "You must be tired", he said. "Let's go to bed. Tomorrow's our wedding day and you need your sleep."

"Mmm – and you too. Are you feeling okay?"

"A little sore – but it was definitely worth it."

The two curled up next to one another in the big bed. They were both too tired, and Patrick too sore and Teresa too pregnant – to do anything more than hold one another and tell each other the things that lovers do until eventually they both fell asleep.

* * *

"Uh, Teresa?" he asked the next morning. "Where – and how – are we going to get married?"

"I arranged everything, don't worry. Come on – I brought you some clothes. I'm going into the other room and changing – so don't look."

His brows shot up at that. "I hate to tell you my dear, but I've 'looked' plenty of times."

"I know", she grinned. "But this is different. This is right before our wedding and it's traditional that the bride and groom don't see one another, at least until I'm ready."

"Okay fine", he muttered as he headed towards the deck. "Although it's a silly custom. Who cares if I see my bride? Is it going to bring bad luck for seven years or something", he muttered. He made his way into the master suite and found the closet. Hanging inside was cream-colored shirt and linen pants. He was rather surprised as it wasn't his usual type of clothing, but with a shrug he got dressed.

"I'm ready", he called out. "Can I see you now?"

There was a soft sound at the door and he looked up, to see his bride – he couldn't quite believe it – standing in the doorway. She was wearing a simple white dress with spaghetti straps that flowed down to her knees. It was simple and elegant and perfectly fitting for a nine-months pregnant woman.

"You look beautiful", he said, walking towards her and pulling her into his arms. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"You're okay with it?" she asked, suddenly sounding worried. "I didn't mean to rush this if you'd rather wait, or if you're not really -"

"Teresa, shhh", he bent and kissed her. "I want this more than you could possible know. I mean, what man _wouldn't_ want this? No fuss, no muss and no in-laws!"

"Jane!" she hit him playfully. "My family's not bad."

"I didn't say they were but this way I don't have to be on my best behavior."

"Since when are you _ever_ on your best behavior? In fact, do you _have_ any best behavior?"

"I'm crushed Teresa", he said, looking hurt.

She simply raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. "Okay – how about pretty- _good_ behavior?"

"Fine, I'll grant you that. Now let's get going. We don't want to be late for our own wedding."

"No, wouldn't want to make the guests wait", he agreed with a grin.

They got back into the car, although this time Teresa was driving. She didn't like to go long distances, but could still manage short drives.

"You're not telling me where we're going today, either, are you?"

"You'll know soon enough", she answered with a smile. "By the way, you look wonderful", she told him.

He looked rather embarrassed at that and it made her grin even more. She put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. They were soon on their way to the secret wedding spot.

"Teresa, stop for a moment – yeah, right there." She frowned at him but pulled into the small farmer's market at the side of the road. "You're hungry?" she asked, slightly irritated.

"Hmm? No. I'll be right back."

He was gone for only a few short moments, but when he returned he was carrying a small bouquet of wild flowers. "Can't get married without flowers", he told her.

Damn – he was determined to make her cry after she'd spent all that time putting on the perfect make-up. "Thank you", she told him with a quick squeeze to his leg.

A few minutes later she pulled onto a turn-off and travelled a short distance down a very bumpy road.

"Be careful – this is awfully rough. I don't want you to go into labor."

"I'm not going into labor because of a few bumps." A few minutes later she pulled into a small parking lot. There were a handful of other cars present, but Jane – uncharacteristically – didn't pay much attention. He was too focused on Teresa and making sure she was okay.

"I'm fine!" she told him. "Just help me out of the car."

Jane could hear the sound of the waves and knew they were right by the ocean. She'd clearly arranged a wedding on the beach. He smiled. This was perfect. He couldn't have thought of a better place to marry this woman than by the ocean. He was a little surprised because he had always thought she would want a church wedding – which he would have happily agreed to her for her sake. But for him this was the perfect place. His only regret was that they couldn't share it with their closest friends.

"Coming?" she asked with a smile as she held out her hand. He took it and followed her down the narrow path to the beach.

"Over here", she told him, pointing to a small gazebo down by the water. "Ken Ardsley told Grace about this. I thought it would be the perfect place."

"It's beautiful", he agreed. The gazebo was built up on a small outcropping of rocks near the water's edge. There was a narrow path, which broke off from the main one and lead up to it. It was only as they approached it that Jane was aware that there were people waiting at the top.

It was Grace who met them halfway up the path. Jane laughed softly. Of course she'd be here. She would never forgive Teresa if she'd missed their wedding. He was also pretty sure she had a lot to do with this weekend.

Grace gave Teresa a quick hug and then turned to Jane with a smile. "So, were you surprised?"

"Very", he said. He then reached out and enveloped her in a hug. "I guess I have you to thank for a lot of this?"

"Mmm, I did my part." She returned the hug and then stepped back. "How did you like the boat?"

"He wants to buy one for himself", Teresa told her with a pseudo-disgusted look. That soon changed as she realized how completely happy Patrick appeared. It was something she had rarely seen on his face and her heart did a little bump. To cover up how emotional she was feeling she took a deep breath and spoke. "So, should we get this going?"

Grace smiled. "You go up top Jane. The others are waiting for you. We'll be up in a moment." She then noticed the flowers Teresa was holding. "Oh good. I was wishing I'd thought to pick some up but I see you got some."

"Jane bought them." She looked at her bridegroom and gave him a quick kiss. "See you in a minute."

Jane slowly made his way up the steps, feeling totally overwhelmed but incredibly happy. Suddenly, and for the very first time, the last thirteen years became totally worth everything – not because of his eventual success in bringing justice to his family – but in having grown to love, and be loved by Teresa Lisbon.

"Jane – about time." Cho was standing there, a grinning Wayne beside him. They led him up to the part of the gazebo overlooking the ocean. A pleasant looking man, who introduced himself as Father Kirkland, stood quietly to the side, waiting to marry them.

He couldn't really say anything, too overcome by the emotion of the day. His team was here – his _real_ team – the ones who were like family to him and to Teresa. They had all been there since the early days and had become more than friends. They were family and he couldn't wish for any other people to be with them on this day.

Just then he saw Wayne move and press a button and soft music began to play. He turned and watched as Grace, followed by Teresa, walked the rest of the path to the gazebo.

Jane thought his heart would burst with happiness.


	35. Of Fear and Trembling

_**An eensy weensy little chapter tonight – just something to hold you over for a few days as I'm crazy busy at work. Hope you enjoy and thanks to my lovely reviewers. I may not have a chance to reply to everyone for a few days but I greatly appreciate those who take the time to comment. Thank you.**_

Everyone went out for lunch after the ceremony to celebrate the wedding. Jane had received hugs from both Wayne and Grace and a slap on the shoulder from Cho – the equivalent of a hug from anyone else. Teresa, of course, got hugs and kisses from everyone.

Over lunch there was a lot of laughter and reminiscing about old times – and a lot of teasing. Although Jane smiled, and even laughed when appropriate, he was unusually quiet the rest of the time. Such was the joy of the event that no one even noticed.

During most of the meal he sat and listened to his friends and – his wife – talk about old times. He also played with his ring, twisting and turning it on his finger. He glanced down at it and frowned. Why did it feel so strange? He'd only stopped wearing a ring a few months ago, but this one felt different, felt foreign.

He twisted it again but this time he looked at it closely. He'd been surprised when the priest had called for the exchange of rings. Cho had calmly handed him one for Teresa. He'd looked surprised but had accepted it. A moment later Grace had handed its pair to Teresa and she had put it on his finger.

He'd almost jerked his hand away but fortunately had stopped himself. He was pretty sure that Teresa hadn't noticed. He felt horrible about it but the reaction had been instinctive. He'd worn Angela's ring for over twenty years and it somehow felt – not wrong exactly – but odd to be wearing a new one.

This one was very different then the simple gold one he'd worn before. It was titanium – black, with a silver band down the middle. He was pretty sure that Teresa had intentionally chosen something very different from the one he'd had before, and he was grateful for that. He twisted it again, trying to get used to again having a woman's ring on his finger.

He'd wanted this more than anything, so was confused and frightened by the ambivalent feelings that were coursing through him. They had only hit after the ceremony, after everyone had congratulated them and they were on their way to lunch.

He swallowed, hating the feeling, hating that he couldn't simply rejoice in the fact that he was married to the woman he loved. He _hated _it. Right then he hated himself. He closed his eyes briefly and felt a wash of guilt stronger than any he'd felt in months. He felt like he'd betrayed both Angela _and_ Teresa.

"Are you okay?" Teresa whispered to him at the moment Cho was teasing Rigsby over something.

"Hmm?" he smiled. "Of course. Just a bit – overwhelmed."

"I know", she nodded. "Me too." She reached out and took his hand and clasped it – the hand with the ring. Again he almost pulled away. Again he stopped himself.

This was Teresa. He would rather die than hurt her and he knew she _would_ be hurt if she had any idea of what he was feeling right then. He had to do everything in his power to make sure she never found out. With a small breath in he turned to Wayne.

"So, Rigsby, how are the rugrats? Still have you wrapped around their fingers?"

Of course that kept the conversation going for quite a while, as there was nothing Wayne liked more than to talk about his kids. He could feel Teresa's eyes on him every once in a while, but managed to keep his expression looking interested and happy.

After few minutes he excused himself and headed towards the bathroom. It wasn't until he got there that he allowed himself to almost collapse. He began to breathe quickly and had to bend over slightly, the feeling of panic overwhelming him.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he feel so terrified? He took a few more breaths but still felt dizzy and nauseated. He eventually made it to the sink and splashed water on his face.

"You okay?"

He stood up quickly and there was Cho, looking at him in concern but not surprise.

"Huh? I'm fine, just a bit -" his voice faded out and he closed his eyes. He didn't even have the strength to lie.

"Scared?" Cho asked gently

He gave a bitter laugh. "Oh yeah." He took another breath. "I'm an idiot, I know."

"No, you're not an idiot. You just took a big step and it's normal to feel panicked. I know I would."

"You? Do you ever panic?"

"Of course."

"Did she notice?"

"Teresa? I don't think so. You did a pretty good job of hiding it."

"So what gave me away", he snorted.

"Your hands. Teresa was too close but I could see them."

"Shaking?"

"Oh yeah."

He grabbed a paper towel and slowly wiped off his face. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he asked softly. "I love her so much and yet I feel so guilty."

"About what?"

"I feel like – like I've betrayed Angela – and even thinking that makes me feel like I'm betraying Teresa."

There was silence for a moment as Cho regarded the other man. "Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"Marrying Teresa? If you could would you undo it?"

"Regret it?" Jane thought seriously for a moment. He thought about not having Teresa in his life, he thought about there being no baby. He then thought about what his life would be like if he walked away at this moment. No, he couldn't do that. Life wouldn't be worth living if Teresa wasn't in it.

"No. No I wouldn't. When she asked me – I – it was the happiest I'd been in a long time. And when I saw her walk to me and I heard the priest's words I felt like -"

"Like what?" Kimball asked quietly.

Jane's face broke into a crooked smile, although his eyes were wet with tears. "Like I'd received redemption."

The other man just nodded. "And the fear set in afterward?"

Jane nodded, although he didn't speak. He still felt strangely fragile.

"Jane, this was an emotional day for you. Of course you're feeling mixed emotions. It's natural. You'll probably feel the same when the baby comes. But if you know, in your heart, that this is right and that you love each other then you belong together. It will be okay, I'm sure of it, and believe me, if _I_ think that then you know it's right. Just don't beat yourself up for how you're feeling. You have a total right to feel the way you do. This is a big step."

"Yeah", he let out a slow breath "I know you're right and I really wouldn't change anything, even if I could. I just – wasn't expecting this. Don't tell Teresa, okay? I don't want her to know about this. I don't want to spoil her day."

"Of course not, although you get to explain what we've been doing here so long."

Jane let out a crack of laughter. "I could tell them I was showing you a magic trick?"

"In the _bathroom_. I'd have to shoot you if you tell them that."

He laughed again and gave Cho a slap on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"Yeah, just don't make a habit of it. I have more than reached my quota of supportive man-friend moments this year. It's worse than shooting someone."

Jane was chuckling as he made his way back to the table. He still felt emotional and unsure of himself, but Cho had managed to help calm him down quite a bit. He put everything in perspective, which was exactly what he'd needed.

"You two okay?" Teresa frowned as the two men returned.

"Hmm?" he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. "Fine. Cho met a guy he used to know and we were chatting."

"Really?" Wayne glanced at his former partner as he sat down. "Who was it?"

"Who was who?" Cho asked.

"The guy you met. Jane said you ran into someone you used to know."

"I think he was an old gang buddy of Cho's", Jane added seriously. "One whole side of his face was tattooed with a big butterfly."

"A butterfly tattoo? Really?" Rigsby looked at him with interest. "Was it someone from your former gang?"

Cho shrugged. "No. He went to the same dance class as a former girlfriend of mine. He's actually gay and he was hitting on Jane. I decided to stay and protect him."

"Who? The guy or Jane?" Grace asked with a grin.

Teresa laughed at that and Jane gave a small smile, appreciating the distraction.

"Should I be jealous?" Teresa asked him, tongue in cheek.

"No", he put his arm around her. "I'm all yours."

She sighed and leaned her head on him. "Yes you are."

Jane looked up at Cho and gave a small nod, signaling his thanks. He reached for Teresa's hand and once again clasped it in his own. The fear and panic slowly started to leave and it was being replaced by a gentle quietness. He was embarking on a new life and yes, it was frightening, but he knew it was right. He leaned over and kissed Teresa on the temple.

"What was that?" she smiled up at him.

"Just happy to be wearing your ring", he whispered softly.

Cho smiled.


	36. Of Romance and Remembering

"What are you doing Paddy?"

Jane blinked, confused and disoriented. "What -?" The woman – the one from his dream who looked and sounded like his mother was standing in front of him. He took a step forward to check his location, wondering _where_ he was. It only took a second to recognize the surroundings. He was on his Malibu property, standing on a small outcropping which over looked the ocean.

He turned back slowly, knowing there was no point in trying to ignore the woman, or in making himself wake up. For some reason the mother-dream – he didn't know what else to call it – had returned. He'd hoped they had ended, but clearly that wasn't the case.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked with a deep sigh. "It appears as if I'm standing here talking to you – again, I'd like to point out.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it", she scolded. As she spoke she began to move towards the small path that paralleled the coast. He'd always loved to come here and walk along it, sometimes alone but more often with Angela. He hesitated for a moment, the memories sending a sharp but swift stab through him, but then he shrugged and began to walk beside her.

"No?" he glanced sideways at her. "What did you mean then?"

This time she sighed and shook her head. "Obstinate and contrary, just like your father!"

"I am not", he answered swiftly, sounding irritated. There was no way in hell he was anything like his father.

"I'm afraid you are Patrick", she nodded. "You were that way even as a tiny baby. It's the Jane blood in you. But that's not why I'm here. I want to know why in the world you're doing this? I thought that you'd started to get over the ridiculous guilt you insist on carrying with you."

"What?" He stopped, a deep scowl appearing on his face. "What are you talking about?"

She had stopped with him but at this she stepped forward, into his personal space. He would have backed away but a quick glance behind him showed him it wouldn't be wise as it was too close to the edge of the path and a sharp drop down.

She gently cupped his face in her two hands. "I'm speaking about you feeling guilty about marrying Teresa. You did the right thing Patrick. The two of you were _meant to be_. Don't go spoiling that with some ridiculous sense of guilt and betrayal. You know very well Angela would want you to be happy. Let her go Patrick and enjoy your new wife."

"I am."

"Really?" She looked deep into his eyes and then gave a sharp nod "You're trying, that's good. Just keep telling yourself to be happy and let your friends help. And for God's sake Paddy – enjoy your bride. She loves you and you love her. Celebrate that."

His moth – the woman – continued to look deeply into his eyes as she spoke. Her voice was soft and melodious, the sounds falling gently on his ears. He could feel a sense of peace wash over him and his eyes began to close. Was she hypnotizing him? He rather thought so, although he knew that was impossible. No one had ever managed to do it to him before and he wasn't about to allow it now. And anyway, he was sleeping. This was all a dream – wasn't it?

No – he wasn't going to allow – he breathed slowly, his eyes closed. He felt like he was floating and the memories started to float softly through his mind.

He thought of Teresa and how beautiful she had looked. He remembered the sound of the ocean in the background as they said their vows to one another. He pictured his friends standing there, smiles on their faces. The sense of peace began to morph into a feeling of joy. He allowed it to wash over him as he remembered his wedding to Teresa.

It had been strange how meaningful the ceremony had been to him, even though he didn't believe in God or religion. He knew it was important to Teresa so had determined to be on his very best behavior and not to make any sarcastic comments over the fact that it was a priest who married them. Her faith was important to her and he had learned to respect that, even if he couldn't believe it.

Still – there had been a feeling during that ceremony that he couldn't describe. It had reminded him of something – something from his past that he'd refused to acknowledge or recognize. But the feeling had remained. It was one of – he thought for a moment – of holiness, if that was the right word. It had felt, for those few brief moments, as if there was something or someone present that wasn't of this world.

He laughed softly at himself. He was either losing his mind or this whole dream thing was starting to affect him.

"You're not going crazy Patrick", the woman said. "You're remembering, you're allowing yourself to believe."

His eyes opened and the woman was still there. He was back on the trail by his house, not at his wedding. "Believe what? I believe in what I know is true, in what I can see and touch – not some myth."

"Can you see or touch Teresa's love?"

"That's different", he said sharply. "Why do you keep coming back? Why are you bothering me? Why don't you just let me live my life?"

"Because you're not living it – not fully. For that you need to accept who you are."

"And who is that?"

She smiled and patted him on the cheek, just like she'd done when he was a boy.

"Just remember Paddy. Guilt will only hurt those you love, including Angela and Charlotte, and certainly Teresa. Let it go and love."

"Let it go", he murmured softly, enjoying the touch he remembered from his childhood. The peace washed over him and he smiled.

* * *

"Jane?"

His eyes opened slowly and he found himself looking into other eyes – green eyes that were looking down at him. "Are you alright? You were talking in your sleep."

"I was?" He reached up and gently touched her face. "What did I say?"

"You said 'let it go'. Do you know what you meant?"

He smiled at her and his hand dropped. "Cable TV. There's nothing on and it's expensive. Let's just stream movies."

"_Jane_! Stop that", she swatted him. "Be serious."

"Why?" his grin grew and he sat up. He then pressed her down so that she was lying flat and he was looking down at _her._ He gave her a slow, deep kiss and her eyes closed gradually. Knowing that she couldn't lie on her back for too long he moved so that she was spooned up to him, his arm around her waist. He put his mouth next to her ear. "Do you have any idea how much I love you", he whispered.

She reached up with her hand and clasped his. "Only a little less than I love you?"

"Nope", he shook his head. "I love you more."

"No you don't", she answered and he could feel her smile break out. "I love _you_ more."

"Lisbon -"

"Jane", she interrupted.

"What?"

"No – you called me Lisbon. We're married. So – Jane."

"You want to use my last name? That's rather – old-fashioned, isn't it?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Of course not. I'm very proud to have you use my name – just surprised. I never expected it. And I'll always think of you as Lisbon. Calling you Jane is just – weird."

He could tell she smiled again. "I'm keeping Lisbon professionally", she told him. "It's just kind of nice to think of us sharing a name."

"I could change mine to Lisbon. I've always liked the name."

"Nope", she shook her head. "You are definitely a Jane."

He sighed. "That's what my mother said", he told her. "I don't think that's such a good thing. The Jane's weren't the most – upstanding – of citizens."

"She told you that when you were a little boy? That seems rather – harsh."

"No. She just told me that now."

It took him a moment to realize what he'd just said and he grimaced, especially as the silence grew heavy.

"Uh – Jane?"

He sighed. "I just dreamt it, that was all."

"Oh." There was another moment in which Teresa didn't speak and then – "You've been dreaming of your mother a lot."

"I know – don't ask me why."

"Okay – I guess I won't but I am curious."

"Yeah, me too." He began to draw slow circles on her belly. "So – Jane?"

"Teresa Jane works."

"Yes – yes it does."

"You're okay with that?"

"With you using my name? I told you, I'd be proud for you to use it."

"No – I mean – you're okay with us being married? I worried for a while at lunch today that you were upset. Did I – did I rush you into this?"

"Oh Teresa!" He gently pulled her shoulder so that she turned and faced him. "I'm so sorry if you thought that." He swallowed, wondering whether it would be better to tell her the truth or to lie. "There was a brief moment when things felt a bit – strange – but I didn't for a moment regret marrying you." And that was the truth, he realized. Even in the depths of his guilt he had not once wished that he hadn't joined his life to hers.

He received a soft kiss on the cheek for that, but her expression looked serious. "What do you mean by strange?"

He let out a huff of breath and struggled to know how to answer her without making her feel frightened or sad. But he realized that he needed her to understand – to hear the truth.

"I was loyal to Angela's memory for a long, long time after she died", he told her quietly. He stared down at his hands as he spoke, unable to look her in the eye.

"I know", she nodded. "You know I never blamed you for that. I understood."

"I know you did", he smiled. "But I want you to know that _you_ are my life now. You make me happy and I'm looking forward to our life together."

"But?" she asked softly.

"No but", he smiled. "I just had a brief moment today that I wondered if Angela might be hurt by me marrying again and I felt -"

"Guilty?"

"Mmm hmm", he admitted with a crooked smile. "But there wasn't a single moment of regret for marrying you, don't think that. It was just -"

"A totally normal reaction", she assured him. She stopped talking for a moment and she took a deep breath. "I need to know though – is this something that - that you're going to keep thinking about? I mean, are you still feeling guilty?"

"No", he assured her with a kiss. "I told you – it was just a momentary thing and I'm okay now. Both Cho and my – mother – told me to get over it." He grinned. "I never thought of it before, but he reminds me of my mother."

"_Cho_?" she laughed. "Oh, I'll have to tell him that."

"Don't you dare!"

"So tell me – how does he remind you of her?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, both of them are tough on the outside but soft on the inside. And neither of them put up with what my mother used to call my 'nonsense'."

"Smart people." She snuggled up to him. "So, how are you feeling now?"

He sighed and held her tightly. "We-ell, a little frustrated, if you want the truth."

"Frustrated?" She leaned her head back and peered up at him. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Well, I've got an arm full of beautiful woman and there's not much I can do about it right now."

"Oh! So feeling a bit frisky are you Mr. Jane?"

"Yes I _am_ Mrs. Jane", he told her with a huff.

"Well – there _are_ certain ways we can fix that you know."

He gave an endearing little squeak when her hand reached out and touched a sensitive spot. "Why Teresa Lisbon-Jane! Did I tell you I _really_ love you?"

"Then prove it to me Mister!"

* * *

Over the next few days his mind kept returning to his dream – or dreams to be more precise. For some reason, which he couldn't or didn't want to name, he knew there was something he needed to remember. He also knew that he didn't_ want_ to remember. Something was holding him back from accessing that part of his memory palace. He wondered briefly if it was better to ignore the dreams, and the feeling of something that he needed to remember, or to try and figure it out.

Well, since it was only a few short weeks until his child would arrive he decided it was best to try and forget about it. He had enough on his mental plate to deal with. He was, in equal measure, excited and terrified by the prospect of his soon to be born child. He was in love with it already and spent many hours, when Teresa was sleeping, just touching her belly and feeling the gentle movements of the child. But then there were the times when his imagination kicked in and he thought of all the horrible possibilities.

"How are you doing?" Abbott asked him when he returned to work. "I hear you and Teresa finally tied the knot."

"Mmm", Jane smiled. "We did. And I'm doing well. She wanted to get married before the baby came. We're going to have a bigger celebration after the baby."

"Good because I _really_ want to give a speech."

Patrick's eyebrow went up. "Somehow I don't think that's a good idea Dennis."

Abbott grinned and turned to head back to his office. "Oh, yes. It'll be _very_ good."

Jane stood, looking after him and finally shook his head. He'd definitely have to do something about that. He wondered what would happen if he tried to hypnotize the man.

"Hey Jane", Michelle called out. "What's this I hear about you going off and getting married? Is it true."

"Yes", he nodded and held up his hand. It was still a bit strange to see the very different ring on his finger, although he was growing to like it more and more each day. For the first time in years his ring meant something joyous rather than tragic.

"And you didn't invite us?"

"Uh – it was just a private ceremony", he told her. "We're having a party to celebrate after the baby."

"Okay, good. I hope there will be dancing."

"Of course."

"Dancing?" Cho asked as he walked into the room. "Why?"

"To celebrate Jane and Lisbon's wedding", Vega told him. "There has to be dancing."

"No there doesn't. We could go out for pizza and beer", Cho said with a straight face.

"For a _wedding_? Wow, you're a romantic."

"No I'm not", Cho answered, sitting down at his desk.

"No kidding. So Jane – are you a romantic?" Vega asked.

"Me?" He thought for a moment. "You'll have to ask Teresa."

"Ask me what?" Teresa approached her desk slowly, feeling heavy and ungainly as she got closer to her due date.

"She wants to know if Jane's a romantic?"

"Teresa?" Patrick asked her with a wicked twinkle. "Am I romantic?"

Her head tilted to the side as she considered. "Hmm. Well, jumping over a fence and forcing yourself onto a plane _was_ kind of romantic."

"There, see", Jane smiled and sat on his couch.

"And you did dance with me a couple of times."

"There ya go", Jane laid back on the couch.

"But then there were all the times you tricked me – definitely not romantic."

"That was before", he said, not looking at her.

"Before?"

"Mmm. Before I jumped the fence."

"So that's what we're calling it?" Lisbon said, her brows raised but a laugh in her voice. "The day Patrick Jane jumped the fence."

"Yup", he nodded and grinned. "A moment never to be forgotten."

"Certainly not by the TSA", Cho muttered.

Michelle laughed. "So, when are you going to have the party?"

"After junior arrives", Teresa grimaced. "Probably not until quite awhile afterward. I expect I'm going to be too busy."

"Walking the floor, trying to get him to sleep, constant feedings", Vega nodded.

"Mmm hmm", Teresa agreed. "Jane is _so_ time-consuming."

Even Cho laughed at that and soon they were all back to work – or at least all of them but Jane, who was lying staring at the ceiling, a small smile on his face.

A short while later Abbott exited his office. "We have a case folks, a kidnapping of a young boy. The parents are on their way, so let's hop to it."

Jane sighed and sat up. These were the cases he hated the most, the ones where a child was involved. He walked over to Teresa and gave her a quick hug, as much for his own comfort as hers.

"Let's find him and then go home."

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. At that moment she realized that whether or not Jane was romantic didn't really matter. What did matter is that she could always count on him. "Yeah – let's do it."


	37. Of Vision and Sense

_**Um - reviews would be amazing :-) Thank you to those of you who so faithfully review. I appreciate it so much!**_

The mother, Marissa Cargill, was a mess. Her face was streaked with tears and she could barely stand upright. Her husband had his arm around her and was holding on to her protectively.

"In here Mr. Cargill", Abbott said gently. He ushered the two into the conference room, followed by Jane and Vega.

"Michelle, get the Cargill's something to drink, will you?" She nodded and quickly left the room.

"Can you find my baby", the wife asked, a sob in her voice. She looked hopefully at the FBI agents. "Please? He's only little and he'll be so scared."

"We'll do everything we can Mrs. Cargill", Abbott told her. "My agents are already looking into all the evidence very carefully. We just need you to tell us everything you know." He glanced over at Jane. "This is Patrick Jane. He's a consultant who works with us and is very good at finding answers so anything you can tell him will be helpful."

"Mr. Jane", Brent Cargill acknowledged the consultant with a quick nod. "What do you need to know?"

"Tell me about your son", Jane said gently. He glanced over at the wife and wanted to tell her it would be okay, even though he knew the chances were it wouldn't be.

Brent swallowed. "Liam is – six, just six. He started first grade this year and he loves it. He's always happy." His face crumpled slightly but then he took a deep breath and pulled himself together. "We love him so much – please find him for us."

Patrick nodded. "I'll do what I can. Tell me how he disappeared."

"He was playing in the back yard", Mrs. Cargill said softly. "He was just outside - just playing. I could see him from the window in the kitchen. He was running around – he was wearing his Avengers costume and playing make-believe. The phone rang and – and, oh God, I answered it. It was a friend – we both volunteer at the school. She was telling me about an upcoming fundraiser and we were going over plans. I couldn't have been on the phone more than ten minutes – just ten minutes", she cried. "When I went back to the window I didn't see Liam. I thought he must have come inside so I called for him. When he didn't answer I just thought he was hiding – he sometimes likes to hide." The tears started to flow again and her husband reached out and put his arm around her and pulled her close. "I got so mad at him. I thought he was playing. It's all my fault", she cried.

"When did you realize he was gone", Jane asked gently, leaning forward.

"It was – after I looked and looked and couldn't find him. I went out into the back yard and that's when I saw that the gate was open. But it wasn't just open. We have it locked so Liam can't get out. The lock was broken."

"And you're sure this happened today?"

Brent nodded. "Yes. I was out there this morning and checked it. It was locked."

"So do you have any idea who would have done this or why?" Abbott asked. At that moment Vega returned with bottles of water. She placed them on the table and then sat down.

"No – none at all", Marissa Cargill answered. "We don't make a lot of money so it can't be for a ransom."

"Any enemies? What about old boyfriends, girlfriends? Anyone who holds a grudge?" Patrick looked at both of them carefully to see their reactions.

Brent frowned. "None that I know of. I mean, we all have people we don't like and vice versa, but there's no one I know who would do such a thing."

"No", Marissa shook her head. "No one. Who could have done this? Why? My poor baby."

"Do you have a picture of your son", Jane asked. He waited while Marissa opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. After fumbling for a moment she handed a picture to the consultant.

Patrick reached out for it – and then almost dropped it as soon as it touched his fingers. No on else seemed to notice and he took a deep breath. He felt strangely dizzy all of a sudden but forced himself to look down at the picture.

The smiling face of a little boy was looking up at him. Liam had blond hair and big blue eyes and an impish grin. "He's an only child", Patrick murmured.

"Yes", Brent nodded. "We wanted more but haven't been able to get pregnant."

"Liam wanted a brother or a sister", he continued, still looking down at the photo. "He's been praying for one, every night."

"Yes", Marissa breathed, suddenly staring at the consultant.

Jane nodded. "He really wants a little brother to play with, but he thinks a sister would be okay too. He also wants a puppy and he's going to name it Thor, after the Avengers."

"My God – how do you know all of this?" Brent Cargill suddenly stood up, looking down at the man still holding the picture.

"Huh?" Patrick blinked and looked up, not quite sure what was happening. "What?"

"How do you know that?" Cargill asked again.

"Know – what?"

Abbott leaned forward slightly, a puzzled frown on his face. "You just told the Cargill's some things about their son. They're wondering how you knew."

Jane got that strange feeling again and suddenly dropped the photo. "I'm sorry. I was just – guessing. I'm good at that."

"But how would you know what he wanted to name a puppy?"

"Uh – your wife said he was wearing an Avengers costume and what little boy doesn't want a puppy named Thor – or a brother?"

"Oh", Brent continued to frown, but he sat down slowly. "I thought you were going to say you were a psychic or something. I've heard the police sometimes use them and we uh - don't really believe in that sort of thing."

"No, neither do I", Patrick agreed.

Abbott regarded Jane, a strange look on his face. He noticed how pale the consultant was. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Hmm? Oh – yes", Patrick smiled. "I think that's all I need". He stood up slowly. "Agent Abbott will be able to help you. I'm going to go and just – uh – think about things for a minute."

"Jane?" Abbott asked, still puzzled as to what was going on.

"I – should go. You don't need me right now." He turned sharply and headed out the door, needing to get away quickly.

* * *

"Paddy! Where are you going?"

The voice of his mother stopped him cold. He was going insane, he was suddenly sure of it. He'd dreamt of her but had never had any waking visions, or in this case waking conversations.

"Where do you think you're going Patrick Alexander Jane", her voice scolded him. "You get back in there. You have to stop this! It is time you accepted who you are and _help_ those people."

"I'm _trying_", he answered, leaning against the wall. "Going back in there isn't going to make any difference."

"Yes it is. You can find that little boy Paddy – before he gets hurt. You know you can. Just go and talk to them. Use your gift. You can do it."

Jane suddenly closed his eyes, feeling like he was about to pass out. Suddenly all sorts of memories and visions flooded into his mind, things he hadn't thought of in years. He remembered his mother telling him, teaching him that he had a precious gift that should only be used for good. "You see things Patrick", she'd told him gently, "things others don't see. Use that to help people. Use it carefully and never to hurt or for selfish purposes."

"But I don't wanna have it Mama", his young voice had cried. "I don't wanna be diffewent."

"But you are my son, there's no changing that. Come on – I'll help you learn to use it. My Mother had the gift as well and so did your great-grandfather."

In his mind flashed pictures of his mother helping him understand, explaining to him, showing him how to use the gift. She also made him promise not to tell his father. "It'll be our secret Paddy", she'd whispered. He now knew why that was.

Because Alex Jane did know that his son was special, although he hadn't realized _how_ special. He simply thought Patrick was observant. As soon as his wife had died he'd begun to exploit his son for his own profit.

Jane had, at the young age of eleven, known that he had to keep his gift a secret but he'd been terrified that he couldn't – that someone, most probably his father, would find out. The only thing he'd been able to do was to shut it down, to pretend it didn't exist, to stick it in a room in his memory palace and bolt the door shut – never to be opened again.

He couldn't shut the gift down completely however, but instead had turned it into something less - less _mystic_. He'd claimed, at least to himself, that it was nothing more than his keen intellect, his sharp observations skills. That's all it was and that is all he used but not, like his mother had taught, for good – but for his own profit. H

It was only with the death of Angela and Charlotte that he'd realized that using his gift the way he had had led to their deaths. Once aware, he'd stopped and focused all his energies on capturing murderers – especially Red John.

But now – for some reason everything had begun to come back to him. The dreams – they were obviously the opening of the door. He began to gasp, his carefully built picture of himself beginning to crumble.

"Jane?" He heard Teresa's concerned voice and felt her hands on his back. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He stood quickly and threw his arms around her, needing her desperately – needing the safety of her presence and her love and her arms.

"No", he cried into her shoulder. "No."

"What is it? Is it the little boy?" she asked, worried. "Did they – did they find him?" She felt him shake his head no. "What is it?"

"I remembered", he whispered. "I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"No – I don't want it. I can't – I _won't_."

"Jane, what is it?" she was really worried now, and also noticed they were attracting attention. "Come with me." She led him into a small interrogation room. "Now tell me, what is the matter?" She sat him down and then pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.

Jane lifted his head and she was shocked at the fear and anguish in his eyes. "I've remembered – my – my _gift_", he said bitterly.

What did he mean? She stared at him, worried about his reaction. "What gift Patrick?"

He laughed and leant forward, his head in his hands. "The dreams. The dreams were trying to tell me – _she_ was telling me."

"Who?"

"My mother. Teresa, what am I going to do?"

"Patrick, I don't understand. What are you talking about? What is this _gift_?"

He shook his head slightly, not wanting to tell her, not wanting to face it. But he had to. A little boy's life was at stake. He slowly sat up, dropping his hands to his sides. He stared at Teresa and prayed – for the first time in many years – that she wouldn't leave him over this.

"I –", he closed his eyes. "When I was little – my mother said it started happening when I was about three years old – I would see things."

"See things? What do you mean?"

"Things that others couldn't see", he answered, his voice so low she could barely hear.

"Yes, we've all seen you do it for years", Teresa told him, still puzzled as to what was going on.

"No, you don't understand. I could _see_ things – things that – weren't there."

"That weren't – you mean you imagined things?"

"No – they were real – just not _visible._"

"Patrick, I don't understand what you're trying to say."

He laughed softly, bitterly at that and stood. He walked a few feet and turned his back to her. "I could see – visions – hear people and things that weren't present. I sometimes saw things that hadn't even happened yet. It – frightened me – no it _terrified _me. It was my mother who explained that it ran in our family and that it wasn't something to fear, but rather something to respect. She taught me how to – use the gift – and how not to use it."

"Patrick – are you telling me – oh God, you mean that you're -"

"Psychic?" He laughed again and then turned. "Yeah, I guess so – whatever that means. Ironic, isn't it?"

"But you said you don't believe in psychics."

"I don't – didn't. At least – most of them are nothing but charlatans, con-men or women. But maybe – maybe there are a few that do have a 'gift'. My mother told me I was one of those people."

"But why did you say all these years that you didn't believe in them?"

"Because I denied it", he said simply. "After my mother died, I knew I had to hide whatever it was from my father or he'd exploit it – and that would have killed me. Instead I buried it down deep and simply used my powers of observation – I as always good at that. Unfortunately I followed in my father's footsteps and used _that_ for personal gain." He stopped and took a deep breath. "But now – it's all coming back."

"Did something just happen to make you remember this?" she asked, knowing it must have been something.

"I – the parents of the little boy who's been kidnapped gave me a picture of him."

"And?"

"And when I touched it I could _see_ him. It was as if I knew him."

"Wow." She regarded him closely, seeing how distressed and pale he looked. She stood and walked to him and again put her arms around him. "It'll be okay", she whispered.

"No – I can't – Teresa, I can't _do_ this. I don't want this."

"Then lock it back up", she told him softly. "You've been able to do it for years now. Just put it away and forget it." She smiled and reached up with her hand to touch his face. "It's your choice Patrick. And whatever you decide won't matter to me. I'll still love you – psychic or not."

He leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers. "Can I? Can I just lock it back into that room and forget about it?"

"You can do whatever you want", she whispered.

He nodded and allowed himself to relax. Her words had driven the panic away. It was true – it was up to him to decide whether or not to allow his gift free reign or to put it away again and continue to use his powers of observation and deduction. After a moment of calm reflection he realized that that's exactly what he wanted. His gift really _wasn't_ a gift at all – it was a burden – a burden he did not want.

He lifted his head and smiled down at the beautiful woman in his arms. "Thank you", he told her.

"Feeling better?" she smiled, taking this in her stride, just as she had taken so much from him over the years.

"Mmm – a bit."

"Good." She reached up slightly and kissed him. "You're a good man Patrick Jane – and whatever you decide I'm here for you."

"Thank you", he said again, this time with a bit bigger smile. "I – don't want this", he confessed. "I'm fine the way I am and I plan to stay that way so – this gets locked away again."

She nodded, feeling slightly relieved although she tried not to let him see that. She'd been honest when she said she'd be there for him whatever he did.

"But – not right now", he told her gently.

She frowned, wondering what he meant. "What do you mean?"

He closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them and looked directly at her. "We have a little boy to find and maybe I can use this – whatever it is – to find him."

"Do you think you can?"

"I don't know. It's not an exact science and it's not something I've even tried since I was a child. I don't want anyone else to know about it though, especially since it might not work."

"Of course not", she nodded. "How do you want to do it?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember back to when he was a child. He hadn't done much – his mother had protected him too well – but there had been times when things came to him anyway. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "I think – I think it helps to have an item that belonged to the person. Once I have that then – I'll just have to play it by ear."

"Okay – I can check with the parents. If they don't have anything with them it may mean going to their home to get something."

He nodded. "I'll wait here."

After Teresa had gone he stood there thinking of all that had happened in the last few minutes. It wasn't just remembering his abilities – his _gift _ - he was suddenly flooded with memories of his mother. He had never realized before, but by locking everything away he'd also locked _her _away. He had to swallow the huge lump that appeared in his throat and blink his eyes quickly to avoid tears from falling. He'd adored his mother – she had been his life – and he was only just realizing how he'd cut her off when he'd cut off his abilities.

"That's what you were trying to tell me", he whispered. He felt a sudden flood of anger towards his father but then realized that wasn't fair. His father had been a weak and selfish man, but not an evil one. Patrick knew that his father had loved him, even if he put his own desires first. There was no point in blaming him – not now. Instead he wanted to remember his father the way he was before his mother had died. He had too many tragic memories in his past – he didn't need to add more.

He didn't want to think about this new thing – this thing with which he'd been cursed. He had a sudden memory of Kristina Frye telling him that his daughter hadn't suffered when Red John had killed her. For the first time he allowed himself to maybe believe that her words were true, that she really had spoken to Angela, that she too had a gift.

"Here." Teresa had walked in without him even realizing and he started at her voice. "Sorry", she told him with a worried frown. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine", he smiled. "You just startled me." He looked at what she had in her hand and then looked up at her. "Is that -?"

"Yes, it's Liam's. His mother had it in her purse." She handed over the small car to Jane, who put out his hand slowly, appearing reluctant to touch it. "Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked when his hand stopped inches from hers.

"Yes", he whispered. "I just – I don't know what's going to happen."

"I'm here Patrick. I'll watch out for you."

He nodded, although he didn't tell her that what he was afraid of was what he would see when he took the small toy, not what he'd do. He reached again and this time Teresa dropped the small toy car into his hand.

The feeling was immediate. It was a feeling he couldn't even describe to himself although the closest he came to it was that it felt like an electric shock running through his entire body.

He held on to the car, even though he really wanted to let it go. Instead he closed his eyes and forced himself to breath slowly. Images began to appear in his mind. At first they were fuzzy and moved too quickly for him to comprehend. Slowly, however, it was as if the film were slowing down and coming into focus. Eventually he could see something clearly. It was a small yard, with green grass and a few trees.

Suddenly a small boy buzzed past, making noises and twirling what looked like a small shield in his hand. It was Liam.

Jane watched as the little boy imagined himself in the midst of an adventure, with superheroes and villains. He made noises and shouted out at the bad guys and was clearly having a wonderful time.

He felt a momentary sadness as he remembered his daughter at about this age. It was such a precious time – a time of adventures and imagination and joy. He swallowed. There was no way he was going to let another child lose out on all the joys of childhood and then growing into adulthood.

His vision suddenly shifted and he was watching the gate. Someone reached over and pried off the lock. The next moment the door swung open and a man walked in – an average looking man with a pleasant smile on his face.

He wished he could hear – or even read the lips of the man as he spoke to Liam – but the vision again grew fuzzy. All Jane saw was the man approach the frightened looking child and then the whole scene disappeared.

"Damn it!" he muttered, blinking furiously. "Who are you? Where did you take him?"

"Jane?"

"I saw him Teresa", he turned to her. "I saw the man but I didn't recognize him and I don't know exactly what happened. This isn't helping at all!" he cried.

"Yes it is. You saw him – that's a start. We'll get a sketch artist in here and you can describe him. Maybe the parents will recognize him."

"That'll take too _long_!" he paced around the small room. "Why can't I figure this out? What good is this if all I see are glimpses?"

"Patrick _stop_!" Teresa stood in front of him and held his arms. "You have to stop this. You know that it always takes you a while to figure things out. That's normal. Don't let this – this _thing_ you have get in the way of what you know you can do. You're brilliant and figuring things out – not by seeing visions, but by using your mind. So _use_ it. Use your powers of reason and deduction to figure it out and forget about the visions. Be the person whose solved dozens – hundreds – of cases because of that, not because he's a psychic."

He stared at her, his chest heaving with deep and quick breaths. After a few seconds his breathing slowed until eventually he was calm. He then nodded. "You're right." He gave a crooked smile. "I'd better not start getting caught up in all of the things I've denied for so many years. I'll just use good old fashioned -"

"- Jane sense", Teresa said smiling.

He grinned at that. "Jane sense – I like that."

"Yes, well, it's much better than nonsense – which is what you pull out sometimes."

"Ouch! Come on Mrs. Jane – let's solve this crime!"


	38. Of Groceries and Infidelities

"Why don't you talk to Cho and Wylie and see what they've come up with," Teresa told him. "In the meantime I'll get that artist to come up. It's still worth a shot." She went to turn towards the door when Patrick grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Thank you", he told her gratefully. "I can always count on you."

"Of course you can", she smiled. "That's why we're such good partners."

"Yes, we are." He smiled and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. He watched as she left the room and then took another breath. He still felt unsettled and not sure what this all meant, but Teresa had been right. He needed to use the gifts he _knew_ he had and that he understood. Anything else he was going to put away in the back of his mind until this was finished.

* * *

"No one saw anything", Cho told him a while later. "We canvassed the neighborhood but most people were at work. One lady thought she might have seen a car drive down the alley behind the Cargill's house, but she couldn't describe it other than to say it was a dark color. CSU is still processing the scene but so far have nothing except they found the lock broken on the gate."

"Pried off with a screw driver", Jane nodded.

"Probably", Cho frowned. "How did you know?"

"Hmm? Oh – just a guess."

Cho gazed at him and then finally shrugged. He was too used to Jane coming up with things randomly that usually turned out to be correct to give it too much thought. "Yeah – other than that there was evidence of footprints but not enough to get an impression. So far we have nothing."

"Wylie?" Jane turned to the young technician. "You find anything with all that -" he waved his arms towards the computer, "stuff?"

"Uh – no, not really. I'm checking to see if there are any cameras in the area but it's unlikely. It was a residential neighborhood."

"And the father?" Jane asked.

"He's an accountant", Cho told him. "Most of his clients are small businesses."

"An accountant?" Jane's mind flashed back to the man he'd seen in his vision. He'd been dressed in a suit and had the look of middle management. "This has something to do with the father's job", he suddenly announced.

"Really? How do you know that?" Cho asked, not sounding surprised, or doubtful.

"Wait here, I need to talk to him", he said, not answering Cho's question. He turned quickly and headed back to the room where Abbott still sat with the Cargill's.

Jane hit the door hard, knocking it open, and entered quickly. "Who are your clients?" he asked abruptly.

"What?" Brent Cargill looked at him, a confused expression on his face.

"Your clients", Jane said, sounding impatient, "who are your clients?"

"At work?"

"Where else?" he rolled his eyes and leaned forward on the table. "Yes. Who are your clients at work?"

Brent frowned. "Uh – I have quite a few. Most of them are small business owners – local people. I specialize in that. Did you need a list?"

"Yes. But for now, do you have any big clients? Anyone new?"

"No, not really – I mean, I have a couple of bigger clients. No one that's really new though."

"Who are they?" Jane asked.

"Uh – Jason Merrick. He owns the Fresh Market chain of supermarkets. And then there's Stephanie Farrington – she's the CEO of Farrington Holdings. It's a family company and she just took over from her uncle."

"Rich?"

"Very. Family money. The Farringtons own half of Texas, although they keep it pretty quiet. Other than those two I don't have any really big clients."

"How long have Merrick and Farrington been with you?" Jane asked.

"Uh – Jason has been with me for about eight years. He and I went to college together – we were roommates. When he started to grow his business he came to me because he said he could trust me. I think he also wanted to give me the business to help me out – as a friend you know."

"And Farrington?"

"Well, I guess she is a relatively new client. She's only been with me for about six months. She said she wanted a new accountant – someone different than her uncle had used. I remember thinking it was strange that she would come to someone like me but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I don't do all their accounting – just her private accounts."

"I see." Patrick considered this for a moment. "You see anything unusual?"

"In their accounts you mean? No – nothing."

Jane nodded. "Thank you." He turned to head towards the door.

"Please", Marissa suddenly begged. "Find him. I don't know what I'll do if something happens to him.

"Yes please", her husband repeated, looking at him with both fear and hope. "You have to find him. We can't lose him."

Jane nodded but didn't say anymore, he simply turned and left the room.

"He's a strange man", Brent said to Abbott. "Can he really help us?"

"If anyone can it's Patrick Jane." Abbott gave his signature half-smile. "Don't let his manner fool you. He cares deeply, especially when it concerns children and he'll do everything he can to find Liam."

"Does he have any children himself?" Marissa asked softly.

"He did", Abbott said gently. "His daughter was killed. It's why he cares so much and why he's the best person to help you."

* * *

"Jane – here's the police artist." Teresa was standing beside a young woman carrying a sketchpad and pencils. "Why don't you go in there", she nodded towards the interrogation room she and Jane had used.

Patrick followed the artist in, although he hated to spend precious time on this. Still, he knew it could help. He just wished he could have some time to figure out what this was about. Somehow it was sure it had to do with Stephanie Farrington.

"Lisbon? Can you ask Cho to get Cargill's books for both the Farrington and Merrick accounts?"

"Okay", she frowned. "You think they're related to the kidnapping?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Oh, and have Wylie run through the list of his other clients as well."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

For the next few minutes Jane gave a description of the man who'd taken Liam Cargill. It didn't take long because Jane's memory was such that he was able to give an accurate and detailed description. As soon as he was done he stood up and headed for the door. "Thanks. Can I take that?" He reached over and practically snatched if from the artist's hands.

"Is that it?" Teresa met him as he exited the room. She glanced down at the picture. "He looks innocuous."

"Mmm. Like an accountant maybe?"

She frowned but nodded. "You taking this to show the parents?"

"Yes. Come with me?"

A few seconds later Jane was back with the Cargills, followed closely by Teresa. "This is Teresa Lisbon", he introduced her quickly. "She's my partner. Uh – do you recognize this man?" He handed over the drawing.

The Cargill's both looked at it. Brent Cargill raised his head, a confused frown on his face. "No. Who is it?"

"We think this may be the man who took your son," Jane told them gently.

"But why?" Cargill asked, sounding bewildered. "Who is he?"

"You're sure you don't know him? Look again. I'd say he looks kind of like a manager or accountant."

"We don't know anything," Brent cried. His wife sobbed and leaned into him, looking as if she were ready to pass out. "Don't you think we would have told you if we knew something? It's our _son_ for god's sake."

Dennis stood up at that moment. "Mr. Jane is just trying to help," he said, although he glared briefly at Jane. "I'll get my people on it immediately and find out who this is. Jane, Teresa, you're with me." He faced the Cargill's – I'll be back in a moment so just sit tight." Abbott exited the room, followed by his agent and consultant.

* * *

"Any leads at all as to who this might be?" he nodded towards the artist's sketch.

"No", Jane shook his head. "I'm going to see Stephanie Farrington", he announced abruptly. "I'll take Cho."

"I can go with you Jane", Teresa announced. "I'm not doing anything right now." She didn't want to let on, but she was worried about Patrick and what this 'gift' was doing to him.

Jane frowned. "You should stay here Teresa. Cho can go with me."

"I'm pregnant Jane, not sick – and all we're going to do is talk to this woman. I think I can handle that."

"But you never know what could happen", he told her.

"Take Teresa with you Jane", Abbott said with a sigh. "I'm sure she'll be safe and Cho can stay here and check into any other leads."

With a small scowl Patrick finally nodded. "Okay, come on. Just -" he waved his hand around and then shrugged and headed towards the elevator, pausing briefly when he realized he was going too fast. Teresa was travelling slower than normal.

Abbott watched as the couple left, hoping Jane would again prove his worth and find the kidnapper. There was something bothering his consultant though – he just wished he knew what it was. He was glad that Teresa was with him.

* * *

"You're not mad at me, are you?" Teresa asked after they'd been driving for a few minutes. So far Jane hadn't said a word to her.

"Huh?" He glanced at her, looking almost startled to see her there.

"I just wondered if you were mad at me", she repeated calmly.

"Mad at you? Why would I be mad?"

"For coming with you", she told him.

He gave a small smile and reached out with his hand to take hers. "I always want you with me", he told her. "Just be good."

"Be good?" she asked with a grin. "_You're_ telling _me_ to be good?"

"Yeah," he smiled, acknowledging the sarcasm in her words. "Just don't go throwing yourself at some criminal. You have junior to think about."

"Don't worry Jane. I wouldn't do anything to harm the baby."

"Or yourself", he said quickly.

They arrived a few minutes later at Stephanie Farrington's home. They were shown in by Stephanie's assistant, and waited in a small sunroom until she arrived.

"My assistant tells me you're from the FBI?" she asked as she entered. "What is this about?"

Stephanie was a woman in her early thirties. She was tall, blond and knew herself to be both beautiful and powerful – and used both at will. That she was rich wasn't something she even thought about. She had grown up with a silver spoon and it was simply part of who she was.

"Ms. Farrington", Teresa said respectfully. "You may not have heard, but Liam Cargill, the son of Brent Cargill, was kidnapped earlier today. We're just following up with some of Brent's clients, to see if they might have seen or heard something that would help us."

"I didn't even know he had a son", Stephanie said. As she was speaking she indicated that her guests could sit, and she soon followed. "How old is he?"

"Six", Teresa told her. "You've never met the little boy?"

"No. As I said I didn't even know Brent had a son. He never spoke of him."

"Really? What about pictures in his office, things like that?"

"I've never been to his office," she answered with raised brows. "Why would I go there? Anytime I need him he comes here, to my house."

"Why do you use him as your accountant?" Jane asked suddenly, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived.

"Who are you and why is it any of your business?" Stephanie asked, looking haughty and bored.

"My name is Patrick" Patrick smiled, his sweetest smile. "And I'd like to know why you use someone like Brent Cargill as your accountant? He's small – works mostly with small businesses. Are you sleeping with him?"

She laughed. "My, you do get to the point, don't you?"

Teresa closed her eyes. Yup – Jane was definitely in fine form today. "I'm sorry Ms Farrington. My partner is feeling some urgency since this is a little boy we're talking about. If you could just answer his questions?"

"Fine", the wealthy socialite sighed. She glanced down at her perfectly manicured fingernails. "No, we weren't sleeping together. He was irritatingly faithful to that wife of his, although I could never figure out why. She's such a whining, clinging little thing," she shuddered. "I never would have moved my accounts there if I'd known that he was so devoted to her."

"So you used his services to try and get him to sleep with you?" Jane asked in his usual pleasant but blunt way.

Stephanie sighed and gave Jane an impenetrable look. When he simply continued to look at her with an agreeable smile she moved restlessly. "Yes", she finally said, bluntly. "I met him thought a mutual acquaintance and thought he was cute. He seemed to be interested so", she shrugged. "Normally I would never use someone like him for my business." She sighed again. "_Such_ a disappointment."

Patrick stood. "Thank you Stephanie. You've been very helpful. Let's go Lisbon."

"What?" she looked at him with an irritated frown. "I have some more questions to ask Ms Farrington, Jane."

He smiled and sat down. "She has some more questions", he told Stephanie. "Do you have any tea?"

Later, after Lisbon had managed to get into the car – with Jane's help and with much groaning and cursing – she turned and glared at him. "Why do you always do that?"

He turned to her in surprise. "Do what?"

"Just assume that when you're done, then everyone else should be as well," she groused. She was uncomfortable, had to pee and was tired. "You never bother to ask me if _I_ might have something else to ask the suspect."

He dropped his hand from the ignition and turned to face her slightly, a frown on his face. "I'm sorry Teresa. I don't mean to assume. But she wasn't going to say anything more", he told her. "And you're uncomfortable, you need to find a bathroom and you shouldn't be running around questioning suspects."

"Jane, I'm not uncomfortable." At his look she shifted nervously. "Okay, so maybe I am, but I'm also perfectly capable of knowing when I'm up to handling something or not. I'm pregnant, not sick, and perfectly able to ask a few questions."

"I know you are", he grinned and started the car. "So that begs the question of why you're here. You know very well that you're not up to this right now. Your bladder just can't last that long."

She glared for a moment and then got a sheepish grin. "Yeah – and if you could find a place to stop really soon I'd appreciate it."

After he'd pulled into a gas station and she'd used the rest room, she came out and sat in the car. "Well? We gonna move?"

"I'm okay Teresa", he told her seriously.

She frowned. "What?"

He sighed. "The reason you insisted on coming – you're worried about me. I _am_ fine. You don't need to worry about me."

"Jane, I _always_ worry about you", she told him directly. "But – this time – yes, I am concerned. Look, I know cases with children are always difficult for you and then you've got the added issue of dealing with this whole – psychic thing. I just thought it would be good for me to be with you."

He stared at her for a moment and then reached out and gently touched her cheek. "It is – good for me. You're always good for me Teresa." He turned forward, put the key in the ignition and started the car and in a moment was back on the highway. "But you still should be back in the office or at home."

She shook her head and leaned back. "Mmm hmm," she finally agreed. "Only if you're with me."

He smiled and continued to drive.

They arrived back at the FBI building a few minutes later and Jane insisted that Teresa go back to her desk. "I'm just going to check with Cho", he told her, "to see if he has any leads." He glanced around quickly and then leaned forward and gave her a swift kiss. "Don't worry – there's no one around."

She glared at him but then smiled. "Fine," she huffed. "Just be good."

He opened his mouth but stopped at her look. "I'll try", he told her finally.

There was something bothering Jane. Something about the conversation with Stephanie Farrington was bothering him. Leaving Lisbon at her desk he made his way to the interrogation room and walked right in.

"Mr. Jane! Did you find something?" Marissa Cargill asked hopefully. Her face was puffy from tears and she looked less than attractive at that moment.

Brent Cargill, on the other hand, looked worried but still handsome and refined. He was also looking at Jane with curiosity. "_Did_ you find something?"

"No", he answered baldly. "But I have a few more questions, if that's okay?"

"Uh, certainly", Brent frowned. "What is it?"

"Tell me more about Jason Merrick."

"Jason?" Brent asked in surprise. "Why do you need to know about him? There's no way he could be involved. He's a friend."

"We should call them", Marissa added with a sniff.

"Them?" Patrick looked back and forth between the couple.

"Jason's wife Claire is good friends with Marissa", Brent explained.

"Tell me about Jason and Claire", Patrick invited. He sat down across from the Cargills, watching them closely.

"I told you – Jason and I went to college together", Brent said sounding irritated. "We've known one another for years. He owns a supermarket chain."

"Did he inherit it or build it up on his own?" Jane asked.

"Uh – both I guess. His father had a couple of stores – they weren't rich when I first knew him. But Jason took over and soon grew the business until now it's doing really well."

"And now he _is_ rich?"

"Mmm hmm", Brent nodded.

"Tell me about his wife."

The other man frowned and shifted in his seat. "What's there to say? She and Jason have been married for five years."

"Any kids?"

"Uh – no." Brent responded.

"Claire said she's not ready for kids yet", Marissa said. She laughed slightly. "I think she enjoys being able to do what she wants without the responsibility."

Patrick nodded. "Is she attractive?"

"What?" Brent shifted again. "I don't know. I guess", he shrugged. "I don't notice other men's wives like that."

Marissa sniffed again. "She's gorgeous. I always feel kind of dowdy around her. You know the type – she looks like she spends hours getting ready every day. I know she goes to the spa every week to get her nails done and to get facials and everything. How I wish I had that kind of money."

Patrick stood up and smiled at the couple. "Thank you. You've been very helpful."

"Helpful?" Brent started to look angry. "How – by telling you about some of our closest friends? When the hell are you going to start looking for our son?"

Just as Jane reached the door he turned. "Would you like some tea or something? I'll ask Wylie to get you some." With that he was gone.

* * *

"Where's Cho?" he asked Teresa, who was sitting at her desk looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Uh – he was here a minute ago. What were you talking to the Cargills about?"

"Oh, just about manicures and not having children", he smiled. "Ah, there he is. _Cho_", he called out. "I need you to come with me."

"Where?" the agent asked, moving towards Teresa's desk.

"We're going grocery shopping." He put his hand on Teresa's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'll be back soon – don't worry."

She touched his hand quickly and then dropped her own. "I won't. Cho's with you."

"So, where are we going really?" The Korean agent asked with a glance at Jane, who was driving.

"I told you – we're going grocery shopping at Fresh Market." After a quick stop at the supermarket – although it was long enough for Jane to pick up a few apples and grapes – they headed over to the head office. Once there Jane got out of the car, followed closely by Cho, and made his way inside.

"Agent Cho, Mr. Jane", Jason Merrick walked over to them and shook both their hands. "I heard about the Cargills. Is there anything I can do to help? I feel terrible. Jason is a good friend of mine."

"Is he?" Jane asked, his brows raised.

"Yes", Merrick frowned. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Oh yes. I just wanted to confirm that you felt the same way", Jane told him with a small smile.

"Yes, of course I do. We've known one another since college. Now, what can I do?"

"Where's your wife Jason?" Jane asked. Cho was looking at him with his usual resigned look.

"My wife? What does that have to do with the Cargill kidnapping?"

"A lot actually", Patrick smiled at him.

"Just answer the question", Cho instructed.

"She's – I don't know, what day is it?" he glanced at his desk calendar. "Uh, I think she's getting her hair done today. Why?"

"Just wondered", Patrick shrugged. He then stood up and began to wander around the office. Meanwhile Cho began to ask Merrick some questions.

Jason answered, although his eyes followed the strange consultant who seemed to be reading the titles of his books and looking at the odd pieces of artwork scattered around.

"You collect some beautiful things", Patrick said, as he reached out and picked up a small sculpture of a woman.

"Put that down," Jason told him angrily. "That's extremely valuable."

"Oh", Patrick set it down on the shelf. "Sorry." He then continued to wander around the room. At one point his hand reached out towards what looked almost like a Faberge egg, also sitting on a glass shelf. Before he had a chance to touch it Jason had come out from behind his desk and had walked up to him. "Will you sit down", he said, sounding furious. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just go around and touch people's things like that." He twisted around. "Now, unless you have any others questions for me, I have work to do."

Jane shrugged. "I'm all done. Cho?"

"That's all for now Mr. Merrick", Cho answered without inflection. "I'll let you know if we need anything else. Thank you for your time."

Nothing was said until the two men were in the car. Jane looked distracted and it was a few seconds before he realized that Cho was looking at him. "What?"

"What was that about? The stuff about the art?"

"Oh that?" Jane grinned. "Just checking out a theory. Do you have Jason's home address?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go there."

Cho shook his head and gave the directions to Jane. He then sat back, knowing there was no point in trying to get Jane to tell him what was going on. "I'm not going to get shot at, am I?" was all he did ask.

"I hope not", Jane answered, and it wasn't quite what Cho had hoped.

A few minutes later they arrived at the Merrick residence. "Nice", Jane said as they waited at the gate to what was a huge and beautiful mansion. "I should have gone into supermarkets."

"I didn't think you cared about money", Cho told him.

"I don't. Come on, let's see if Mrs. Merrick is home."

Cho almost wanted to whistle. He and Jane watched from the entranceway as Clair made her way down the grand staircase. She was absolutely gorgeous. In fact, thought Cho, she could have been a model.

"She was", Jane said.

"Huh?"

"You were thinking she looks like a model", Jane said softly. "She was. That's how Merrick met her."

"Oh." Leave it to Jane to figure that out – or to have looked it up.

"Mrs. Merrick', Jane walked forward and put out his hand. "Thank you so much for taking the time to see us."

"Oh, it's no problem. Poor Brent! He loves his son and this must be awful for him." There was a slight pause and then Claire seemed to realize something. "Oh – and of course Marissa too. She's such a loving mother. How is she?"

"She's upset", Cho answered. "Can we ask you some questions?"

"Of course. Please, come in here. Shall I ring for coffee?"

"Tea please", Jane smiled.

"Of course." A moment later a servant came and soon Jane had his tea. Claire turned to the two men. "So, what can I help you with?"

"How long have you and Brent Cargill been having an affair?" Jane asked.

Cho always enjoyed these moments. At the beginning even he had found Jane's directness – many would say rudeness – uncomfortable. He'd long gotten over that and relished how he was able to put people on the spot and often make them give themselves away. This time he was enjoying watching Claire turn from a beautiful, put-together woman into a fish – her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

"_What_ did you say?" she choked out.

"I was just wondering how long you and Cargill have been sleeping together. Oh, and don't bother to deny it. You'll just look foolish."

Both men could see as Claire tried to decide whether to deny everything – or to admit to the truth. Finally she closed her eyes briefly – and they knew she was going to be honest.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Oh, Brent is attractive and he's jealous of how well your husband has done. He also resents him for expecting him to work for cheap and getting little out of being a rich man's accountant."

"Yeah", she laughed, "that's Jason. World's biggest cheap skate."

"He decided to get even with Jason by taking something of his – you."

"What?" Claire sat up straight. "He _loves_ me."

"Mmm", Jane thought for a few seconds. "No, he doesn't. He wanted you because he knows that there's nothing Jason hates more than someone touching what belongs to him."

"Oh God – you haven't told Jason have you?" Suddenly Claire was looking frightened.

"No", Jane answered. "But I think he already knows."

"There's no way he could possibly know," she shook her head. "We were too careful."

"First mistake illicit lovers make. You can _never_ be that careful. He knows."

"But - but how? And what does that have to do with the kidnapping?"

Cho was looking at him with as much curiosity as was Claire. Jane didn't want to give everything away quite yet – not until he'd found the boy so he ignored the question.

"Does Jason own a cabin or house or apartment anywhere?"

"A _cabin_? No. And what does that matter?"

"Hmm – nothing – what about an apartment?"

"Well, he has one in New York that he uses when he goes there on business, but he doesn't own it. It's a lease."

"And nothing else?" Patrick pushed her. "There must be someplace he goes when he wants to get away from here."

"Well – yes – there is, but it's not his place."

"Whose is it?" Jane asked. "Is it close?"

"It's just an hour or so out of town. It belongs to a friend and he sometimes lets Jason use it. The friend travels for work and he's gone right now in Europe."

"Do you ever go?" Jane wanted to know.

"Who me? No – it's just a little cottage and I'm not into that kind of thing. Give me a luxury hotel any day."

"Where is it?"

"The friend's place? Hmm – let me see if I can find the address. I think Jason gave it to me when he went a few months ago." She got up and went upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a piece of paper. "Here", she handed it to Cho. "You were kidding about him knowing, right?" she asked, biting her lip.

"No. He knows all right. We'd better be going." Jane stood up and looked directly at Cho, who immediately followed his lead. "I suggest you might want to go visit someone. And don't say anything to your husband."

"I won't", Claire answered with a quick nod. She looked frightened and the moment the FBI agents were gone she was ready to grab some things and run.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Cho asked his companion. "You suspect Merrick?"

"Mmm hmm", Jane nodded. "He took the boy alright. We just have to get there before he decides to kill him."

"The boy's with him?"

"No – he has someone else doing his dirty work for him, so all it will take is a phone call."

"So let's get moving."

Patrick nodded and for once wished he had a siren on his car. He thought back to that wild trip to the airport in Florida, remembering using the siren then. Thank God he'd had it or he might have missed Teresa and his life would be much different.

"Do you think he's still alive?" Cho asked after a few minutes.

"Yes", he nodded. He didn't just think – he _knew_ – but he wasn't going to tell Cho that. He wasn't getting any more visions or pictures, but he did have a strong sense of the boy – and it was getting stronger. "He's alive, but not for long. I think our visit to Merrick may have precipitated things."

Kimball had already called for back-up and hopefully it would be there when they arrived – or soon afterward. He was well-experienced with Jane figuring things out and then landing them right in the middle of a life-threatening situation.

Jane pulled slowly down the long driveway, knowing that there was a possibility that Jason Merrick had driven here after their visit. When he saw the red sports car sitting in the front, beside a more conservative black SUV, he was sure of it. "He's here."

"Crap!" Cho got out of the car as quickly and quietly as he could. "Let them know", he told Jane. "I'm going to go and see what's happening."

"Be careful."

Jane called the FBI, informing them that Jason Merrick was at the house and that the situation was dangerous. Hanging up he then made his way out of the car and moved carefully towards the house.

He frowned when he heard shots being fired and looked around, hoping to see the police arriving.

When nothing more happened he grimaced and made his way to the house, as quickly as he could. A moment later the door burst open and Jason appeared, a crying little boy held in one arm, a gun in the other. "Jane!" he called. "I know you're out here. I'm gonna kill him if you don't come out _now_!"

Jane slowly stepped forward, his hands in the air. "I'm here. Don't shoot."

"How did you know?" Merrick called out to him.

"You don't like it when people take things from you. I knew you must have taken Liam as a way to get back at Brent."

"Yeah", he laughed. "He took something of mine so I was gonna take something of his."

"Just let him go Jason. You don't want to hurt a little boy."

"Why not? Then Brent will learn his lesson."

"You're not going to get away with it", he said. "Everyone knows it was you."

"I _don't care_", he shouted. "He took my _wife_! She was _mine! He had no right."_

"No – he didn't. But an innocent little boy shouldn't be hurt because of that. Just let him go."

"Why don't you come up here and get him", Jason taunted. "Too scared, aren't you?"

"Yes – yes, I'm afraid. But I will get him." He took a step forward. In the background he could hear sirens. They were still a couple of minutes out but he knew that their arrival could cause Merrick to lose control. "Come on Jason – just let him go. You can leave and I won't try and stop you, I promise." As Jane was speaking he wondered what had happened to Cho – and presumably to the man who had been holding Liam – the man who had kidnapped him.

Jason looked as if he too had now noticed the sirens and he was starting to sweat. He was holding Liam more closely and the little boy was sobbing. The gun was wavering and Jane was afraid that someone was going to get hurt. At that precise moment he saw Cho – a Cho with blood on his arm – slide out the doorway behind Jason.

"Come on Jason – just let the boy go. You still have time to get away if you go now. If you don't you know they'll either kill you or put you in jail for a long, long time. Do you really want that? You have a lot of money – if you escape you can go somewhere without an extradition treaty and you'll be safe. Believe me, I've done it and it's nice. Just go somewhere warm and nice."

Jason was wavering, as the sirens got louder. Suddenly, with little warning, he tossed Liam to the side and sprinted for his car. Without even bothering to look at him Jane rushed over and grabbed the terrified little boy.

"It's okay Liam – everything is going to be just fine." He hugged the boy gently. "I'm going to take you to your mom now, okay?" He could feel Liam nod and sniff. "That's a good boy", he said, trying to drown out the noise of fighting.

Cho had immediately taken after Merrick and had thrown himself at the kidnapper and knocked him to the ground. A short skirmish ensued, but Jason Merrick was not an experienced fighter and Cho – even though wounded – soon had him restrained. It was then that the police finally arrived.

They found Merrick's accomplice in the cabin, unconscious but alive. It turned out he was a manager in one of Merrick's stores and had agreed to help for a hefty sum of money. As it was he was going to spend many years in jail for kidnapping.

Jane watched as the paramedics patched up Cho, who had a bullet graze on his arm. They also looked over Liam, who was declared healthy, although he clung to Jane. Once they were finished the two men then got into Jane's car, with Liam buckled in back seat, and headed to the FBI.

"We're taking you to your mom now", Jane assured the little boy. He smiled when he saw that Liam had fallen asleep by the time they were barely on the highway.

"You did good", Cho told him calmly.

"Hey, you're the one that got shot", Jane told him.

"Yeah, but you figured it out and then got him to give up the kid. Nicely done."

Jane glanced to the side and then nodded. "Thanks. I'm just glad Liam is okay."

"Mmm", Cho glanced in the back seat. "Mrs. Cargill isn't going to be very happy when she finds out what this was about."

"No", Jane sighed. "Infidelity – such a stupid and cruel thing."

Kimball looked over at him, a rare smile on his face. Jane really was a good man.

They arrived at the FBI building a few minutes later. Jane woke up the sleepy little boy and carried him upstairs and took him right to the interrogation room. "There's a little boy here who wants to see his mother."

He left immediately after handing the little boy over to Marissa, not wanting to wait for the thank-you's that were sure to come. He'd always been embarrassed by that part of his work, never feeling like he really deserved to be thanked for anything.

He went to see Abbott after that, quickly explaining everything to the senior agent. "I'd like to take Teresa and go home", he said at the end. "She's tired and needs to rest."

"And you are too", Abbott nodded. "Okay – tell Cho that he's to go home as well. We can get everything worked out at this end. Good job Jane."

"Meh", Jane shrugged. "It was nothing."

Abbott smiled. "Right. Now take that wife of yours and go."

"Come on Teresa", Jane reached out and took her hand to pull her to her feet. "Abbott says you're to go home."

"Abbott said that?" she asked, frown lines appearing between her eyes. "Why?"

"Because you're tired and I'm tired and we've solved the case and it's time to go home."

She sighed but nodded. "Okay, as long as you _promise_ me that Abbott really is okay with this and it isn't one of your tricks."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Would I do that Teresa?"

"Yes, of course you would."

He just grinned and led her out of the office and towards home.


	39. Of Psychics and Not

_**To my readers: I wanted to say how appreciative I am of those who take time to review and for your wonderful and encouraging comments. I also want to say that I am more than happy to have people critique my work – and even tell me they don't like something or feel I've gone off track. I appreciate anything that helps improve my writing and am fully aware that I am not the world's best writer.**_

"So, how _are_ you doing?" Teresa asked as they lay in bed, curled up together.

"Fine", he grinned and kissed her gently on the temple. "All's well that ends well."

"I feel sorry for her", she said, staring up at the ceiling. "Mrs. Cargill I mean. I'm glad she got her little boy back, but then to find out her husband was cheating on her – poor woman."

"Mmm", Jane agreed, pulling her to him and holding her tightly. "He had everything and then he threw it away", he murmured softly into her neck. As he said the words he felt a jolt of guilt and pulled her closer. She responded with a hug.

"Maybe they can salvage their marriage", she said after a moment.

"Possibly. Depends on how strong and forgiving she is. Somehow I don't see it."

"No", she sighed. "Me either. Poor little boy."

Teresa watched Jane carefully, trying to tell if he was still bothered by the events of the day or if, in fact he was okay. After a moment her eyes narrowed.

"You're not fine" she finally announced, turning slightly in his arms so that she was gazing directly at him.

"What?" he frowned, looking adorably confused.

"You said you're fine, but you're not, are you?"

"What are you imagining now Lisbon?" he smiled. "I _am_ fine, really. I'm just thinking about the case."

"What about it? Is it about – what you remembered – you know, the visions?"

"Visions", he said, his face growing serious. He'd been thinking about this since the case ended and knew he had to resolve it in his own mind. With a deep breath he pushed himself onto his side to face Teresa. "I don't need visions", he said, more forcefully than was useful for him. "I was able to solve the case with good old fashioned -"

"What? Good old fashioned what?"

"Observation, deduction" he gave a tiny smile, "brilliance."

She snorted. "So you're telling me you figured it out like you normally do – although I don't know if I'd say _brilliance_."

"Of course you would Lisbon – at least you'd _think_ it", he told her, trying hard to sound relaxed and unconcerned. "No, I didn't figure it out with visions or any psychic powers. In fact, I _still_ don't believe in psychics or psychic powers. That was just a – momentary lapse. I was tired", he said lightly.

She crinkled up her nose at that. "But you said you remembered – that you _did_ have powers. And then there was the – the vision of the man who took Liam. You didn't imagine that – it really happened. I saw it."

"Meh! It was logical, Someone had to have broken into their yard to kidnap him and he would have had to use something to break the lock. And the father was an accountant so the chances are that it was someone he knew – hence the man in the suit. It was just coincidence that the drawing looked anything like the accomplice. But did you notice that that was _all_ I saw? If I truly was a psychic I'd have seen where he took Liam."

"But – you said you felt a connection to him."

"Don't you sometimes feel a connection to the victims in your cases?"

"Yes but – that's different."

He raised his brows at that. "Maybe."

"Jane – you told me you saw things as a child – visions, people who weren't there. That's psychic."

"I was thinking about that and I yes, I did remember seeing people who weren't really there. But then, what child _doesn't_ see imaginary people – or animals or dinosaurs? I remember -" he stopped suddenly and seemed to stare off into space.

"You remember what?" she asked gently, seeming to realize that he'd touched a memory that was difficult.

"Oh, I remember when Charlotte used to talk to her imaginary friend. She begged for a brother or sister and when we – well, instead she started to dream up this friend. Her name was Maggie and she'd talk to her all the time."

Teresa reached out and cupped his face, knowing how hard it was for him still to deal with memories of Charlotte, but appreciating that he was finally starting to open up and share them with her. She wondered briefly why he and Angela hadn't had more children, but knew it wasn't something she could ask. He leaned into her hand but after a few seconds blinked and then gave her a grateful smile.

After a few seconds she spoke. "And you're saying that's all it was with you?"

"Probably. I mean, I _was_ extremely observant, even as a child. There's no doubt that I had some sort of -"

"Power?" she interrupted.

He grimaced. "_Gift_ – or whatever you want to call it. I _noticed _things. I could read people's faces and tell what they were thinking and feeling. That, combined with my supposedly seeing people and events convinced my mother that I was psychic. There was a history of it in my family, she told me, so she believed it was true with me."

"I don't know – what about knowing things you couldn't know? That sounds like psychic powers to me."

He sighed and shook his head. "Teresa, how long have you known me? And how often have I known – or figured things out – that no one else knew or did? And you _know_ I wasn't using psychic powers."

"Grace thinks you were."

He rolled his eyes at that. "Grace is way too gullible."

"So you're telling me that all that stuff – all the things you remembered – aren't really true?"

"No, I'm telling you that my mother believed them and taught me that they were true. For many years, as a child, I believed I _did_ have powers. And she did teach me to use what I had – my _gift_ you call it – carefully."

"So when did you stop believing you were psychic?"

He thought for a moment. "After she died", he said quietly. "At first it was just because my abilities were so tied up with her that I closed myself off to them. But then my father insisted that I use some of them to help make him money – but I convinced him, and over time grew to believe myself, that what I was doing was nothing more than carny tricks."

"And the dreams, especially of your mother?"

He let out a long breath and turned onto his back. Staring at the ceiling he lay there quietly until he finally answered. "I've suppressed a lot of stuff", he admitted, sounding embarrassed. "My mother's death was – painful. I think that now, with us together and especially about to become parents, I feel", he grimaced slightly, looking decidedly uncomfortable – "I feel able to deal with some of that and it's coming back to me. I lost my mother for a long time – and I mean to more than death. I – put her out of my life. Now I guess – I'm ready to remember her. I think the dreams were telling me that I _needed _to remember her and imagining her forced me to do that."

"So, you're convinced you aren't really psychic?" she asked, sounding doubtful.

"Yes. I've always told you I'm not."

"I know, but – well, this seems just – I don't know. I've sometimes wondered if you really were and just denied it."

An amused Jane stared at her and then shook his head. "So you think I lied about _not_ being a psychic?"

"I don't know", she said, sounding irritated. "I mean – there are lots of times I couldn't figure out how you knew what you knew."

"Lisbon, I've _told_ you how I know_._ I observe things and I read people really well. You've gotten pretty good at doing those things yourself you know."

"Mmm – nothing like you."

"True" he told her with a bit of his old arrogance. She swatted him on the arm. "Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Because I can. Well, if it makes you feel better to think you're not psychic, then who am I to stop you. But Grace will continue to think you are."

"And you?" he asked, seriously.

"I don't know", she sighed. "Since you tell me you're not, I guess I'll believe you but you must know that there will be moments when I'll think you _are_ psychic."

He leaned over and kissed her. "Okay, just as long as you don't expect me to hold séances or guess the winning lottery number."

"I won't", she agreed. She then snuggled back into him, determined to enjoy the day with her husband.

He lay there quietly, loving being able to hold this woman whom he loved more than life itself_. _He would have to retrieve his box of old photos and show her some of his mother – and some of him when he was little. He laughed softly at that, knowing how much she'd love to look at his baby pictures.

He felt relieved that he'd resolved for himself the issue of whether or not he truly was psychic. Everything that had happened, especially the dreams, had confused him and made him wonder. But he wasn't psychic – that he knew, had known for a long time. He just was very good at figuring things out.

In the moments just before he fell into a deep and healing sleep, a thought came unbidden to his mind. A voice asked him gently if maybe – just maybe – his mother – and Grace could possibly be right.

_**And next …. baby Jane appears**_


	40. Of Birth and Life

_**Thank you for all the lovely comments and reviews I received. And now - for all you patient people. Here's baby Jane ...**_

"Just go Jane. I'll be fine."

"I've already told Abbott I'm not coming in today."

"And what did he say?" Teresa asked him skeptically.

He shrugged. "Not much. What would you like for breakfast? How about some eggs cooked perfectly and buttered toast and -"

"_Patrick!_ Go. To. Work. You don't need to make me breakfast and I'll be just fine on my own. I have a cell phone and a land line and hell, I can even shoot my gun in the air if I'm desperate."

Jane frowned, knowing he should just listen to her, but feeling too tense and nervous to leave her. It wasn't that she wasn't totally capable, because she was, but this was her first baby and she _didn't_ know what to expect. Besides that, this was his child too and he was scared. Hell – he was terrified. At least when he was with her he could hold the terror at bay. Away from her and he knew he would turn into a sniveling mess.

"I – would rather -"

"GO." Teresa was tired and crabby and wanted to have this baby yesterday. She appreciated the fact that Jane took such good care of her, but right now she couldn't take his hovering. He'd feel much better keeping busy at work – or sleeping on the couch, which was much more likely. She could call Cho and Wylie and Vega and tell them to distract him.

"Okay", he sighed, "but if you need me -"

"I know how to contact you!"

"Fine." He walked over to the door, looking back a few times but her expression didn't change. "I'll just – go to work then. You're sure Teresa?"

She let out a slow breath and nodded. "I'll be fine. Don't worry, I'm just going to rest here and maybe watch some TV. I'll call."

He nodded and then he hurried over to her and gave her a kiss. "Kay – be good."

She watched as he drove away and then sighed and made her way to the couch. She knew she wouldn't be there for long before she had to get up and pee but at least she could take some weight off her feet for a while.

Leaning back she put her feet up and then clicked the remote. She didn't really want to watch TV but there wasn't much else to do. She wasn't used to being off work and would much rather have gone in with Patrick. Still, she knew she wouldn't have accomplished much there either and the chair at work was killing her.

The problem was she was already over due by eight days and she was big – huge in fact. Patrick tried to tell her she really wasn't _that_ big, but she knew he lied. She was small and there was nowhere else for the baby to go but out. It was a good thing that Patrick wasn't a big man or else she probably would have exploded. Her doctor said the baby was a good size but wouldn't be too big – it was just all out towards the front. She told Teresa that they'd wait until the two-week mark and then she'd induce.

She rubbed her stomach. "Aren't you ready to come out and see your mommy and daddy little one?" The baby kicked at just that moment and she smiled. "Yeah, I'm ready too. So, you can come out at any time.

She kept flipping through the channels, unable to find anything that interested her. She shifted on the couch, feeling uncomfortable and rather teary. Her back was aching and she was just plain ready to have this baby.

Patrick arrived at work and immediately made his way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. It wasn't that he really wanted one – he'd just finished a big cup at home – but it made him feel somehow in control. He glanced down at the teacup and scowled. He liked tea – he really did – but even he had to admit it was something of a security blanket for him.

He headed out to the bullpen, cup in hand, and glanced around to see everyone already at work. He was late this morning, having spent a long time arguing with Teresa about whether or not to come to work. Abbott glanced up from his desk and raised his brows at Jane. He just shrugged in reply and his boss grinned. Yeah – he knew damn well Teresa had made him come in.

"Teresa make you come in?" Cho asked, not looking up from his desk.

He plunked down on his couch. "Yeah", he answered despondently, taking a sip of tea. He frowned and looked at it. It tasted funny this morning. One sip later and he put it down on the floor beside him. He really didn't want tea.

"How's Teresa doing?" Vega asked. "She's really overdue, isn't she?"

"Eight days", he replied, sounding depressed. "She's fine. Crabby."

Wylie laughed and then looked embarrassed. He quickly started to work on his computer, as he wasn't yet comfortable enough around Jane to tease him.

"Just wait", Jane growled "One day you'll have a pregnant wife and then see how funny you find that."

"Sorry", Wylie grimaced. "I didn't mean to laugh."

"Yes you did", Jane sighed. "But I assure you, a crabby Teresa is _not_ funny."

"You should be used to it by now", Cho informed him.

"Yeah, I know. But this is different."

"How is it different?"

"This time it's not my fault!"

There was a long pause, which he would have described as _pregnant_ if it wasn't for the horrible irony, when no one spoke. It was, of course, Cho who broke the silence.

"Yes it is", he said, matter of factly. "Unless the baby isn't yours."

"Of _course_ it's mine", he said sharply. "Whose else would it be? And if you say Pike I'll find a gun and shoot you. It is _mine._" Then he sighed again. He really didn't like feeling so out of control.

"Look who's crabby now", Vega muttered as she turned and headed towards her desk. Wylie choked, but when Jane glared at him he appeared to be hard at work on his computer.

The others quickly got back to work and Jane sat on his couch. Or at least he tried to sit on his couch. He was up every few minutes, wandering around the floor. He snorted to himself – he must be channeling Teresa, although thankfully he didn't have to pee every ten minutes.

Instead he did a lot of sighing, muttering, pacing, fidgeting and heel tapping. He began to get glares from the agents on the floor, although for once he didn't really notice what was going on around him. He was worried – he had a right to be worried.

He wandered back into the kitchen and made himself another tea. After one sip he grimaced and poured it down the sink. Instead he opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Maybe there was something good to eat. He reached his hand in to grab an intriguing looking container –

"That's mine!" Agent Marcos said sharply. He reached around Jane and grabbed the container. "You shouldn't steal other people's lunches Jane."

"I wasn't. I was just interested to see what it was. You know you should stop eating such fattening food don't you. I'd say you've put on around seven pounds in the last few months."

Marcos opened his mouth to reply but then closed it sharply. A second and a head shake later he spoke. "It if wasn't for the fact that I know you're nervous right now I'd tell you what I thought of that comment."

Jane waved his hand at the agent. "Sorry", he muttered. "Ignore me. Teresa tells me I'm being a pain in the ass and she's right. You actually look good. I expect you've added muscle, not fat."

Marcos grinned and opened the container of lasagna. "Good save there Jane. If you keep practicing you might actually stop irritating people."

"What would be the fun in that", he murmured, a small grin on his face. "Enjoy your lunch. It looks good."

"It is. There's a lot here – want some?"

This time Jane did smile but shook his head. "Not hungry, but thanks."

"Yeah, I felt like that before my kid came too. It'll be okay and soon you'll have a little Jane." Marcos turned with his plate and headed towards his desk. Jane was pretty sure he caught Marcos muttering 'poor little bugger'.

It was true. The poor child was going to have him as a father. What had he done? Well, he knew exactly what he'd done, and he'd enjoyed it immensely. But he and Teresa hadn't thought at all about consequences – and suddenly he was about to experience a big one. He was about to become a father again and he'd screwed it up royally the first time. What made him think he should even _contemplate_ doing this again? He opened the fridge and groaned, slamming it shut. He then ran his fingers through his already messy hair, creating havoc with the curls and not caring in the least.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his arm. He let out an unmanly screech and turned to find Cho standing beside him, his arm held tightly. "What did you do that for?"

"Come with me", Cho told him resolutely. He began to drag Jane through the office towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"Out", the agent told him. He wouldn't say anymore, even though Jane complained bitterly. This time he did see the faces of the other agents – and they all wore various expressions of amusement. "I didn't want anyone to kill you and quite a few people were headed in that direction."

"Why?" Patrick asked, confused.

"You're driving us crazy. You've been sighing and pacing and fidgeting all day. Abbott gave me permission – no, he begged me to take you out of there."

"But where are you taking me?" he asked as he was manhandled to Cho's car. "Teresa doesn't want me to go home."

"That's a surprise. We're going to the gym."

"The _gym_? Why would I want to go there?"

"You can get rid of some of that nervous energy. It'll be good for you."

"I don't do gyms."

"Obviously not. Still, we're going."

"I don't have any clothes or shoes", Patrick answered triumphantly.

Cho didn't speak although a couple of minutes later he pulled up to a sporting goods store. "Out."

"Cho, I am not buying exercise clothing and I'm not going to the gym."

Cho made his way around the car, opened the passenger door and pulled Jane out. "Yes you are. You need to learn some defense techniques anyway. You're pathetic when it comes to that."

"I'm a consultant. I don't need -" His voice faded to nothing when Cho slowly turned to him and stared. "Okay fine – I've been in a few – pickles, when it comes to violence, but that was before. I'm fine now."

"A few _pickles_? Jane, you've almost been killed countless times and you've also gotten all of _us_ almost killed. You need to be trained."

"Like a puppy", he muttered as he was dragged to the shoe department. A few minutes later – with much muttering – he was outfitted with sneakers, socks, a t-shirt and shorts. He held up the shorts and scowled. He was not going to be caught dead in those.

"You're going to wear them", Kimball told him as they made their way to the cashier.

"You can't make me Cho", Jane told him with confidence.

"Yes I can. If you don't I'll tell Teresa."

He scowled at the man he'd considered a friend, but who was now a traitor. "Do you really think that scares me?"

"It should." Cho stopped and faced the consultant. "Look, I know this is hard for you – we all do. I'm just trying to help you through this and exercise will take your mind off things. Just – try it."

"Fine", he sighed dramatically, although he was actually quite touched. He knew Kimball wasn't into expressing how he felt about people, and this was his way of being kind. Jane smiled. It was nice to have such a loyal friend.

He paid for the items and soon they were on their way to the gym. Jane was just glad he hadn't been forced to use the FBI gym in their building. He couldn't have taken the teasing he was sure to have gotten from the guys there.

He spent the afternoon on various pieces of equipment, working up a sweat and generally getting rid of lots of nervous energy. He even spent a short time learning a few defensive techniques from Cho. He was pretty abysmal at them but was willing to try. It was true that they might come in handy one day, especially if Teresa got _really_ mad at him.

By the time he took a shower he was tired – and hungry. It was the first time all day that the idea of food appealed to him. He was really grateful to Cho for having made him do this. It had enabled him to get through the day without going crazy with fear.

"So – we have time to stop for something to eat?" he asked, rubbing his hands together. "I'm hungry."

"Sure. How about pizza?"

"Excellent! Pizza it is and maybe even a beer. First I should call Teresa." He pulled out his phone – which he'd kept close all day. He waited while it rang, a frown forming as she didn't pick up. He was just about to try again when there was a click.

"Teresa?"

"Jane?" a faint voice murmured. He sat up straight.

"Yes. What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's – wrong", she said haltingly. "I'm just in labor. You – uh – might want to get home and take me to the hospital."

"I'll be right there!" he looked at Cho with terror-filled eyes. The other man nodded and started the car. He even went so far as to turn on the siren and soon they were speeding through the streets of Austin, lights blazing and siren blaring

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Teresa?"

"Just a contraction", she answered after a long pause. "I'm fine – don't worry."

"How frequent are they?"

"Every -" there was another pause, although it was shorter this time. "Sorry – just getting more comfortable. Every five minutes or so. Don't worry Jane. Everything is going to be – oh dear."

"Oh dear? Oh dear _what_? What happened? God – hurry up Cho."

"I'm hurrying", he other man answered calmly. He glanced at Jane. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know. _Teresa_ – for God's sake, answer me. What is it?"

"Uh – my water just broke. Damn it – now I have to change."

Jane heard some panting and a soft groan. He was sweating and felt nauseous. Damn – he should have been with her. "Can you go -?"

"I'm going as fast as I can. We'll be there soon."

Jane nodded. "Teresa?"

"Sorry, just another contraction and that one _hurt_. Are you coming home?"

"Of course I am. We'll be there in -" he looked at Cho questioningly.

"Three minutes."

"In three minutes. Just hang on."

"I am", she laughed. "So, we're having a baby Jane. Who would have thought?"

He rolled his eyes and gave a strangled laugh. "Yeah – who would have thought all right?"

"You're happy aren't you?" she asked, suddenly sounding rather teary. "You do want this child, don't you?"

He sighed and answered. "Of _course_ I do – you know I do Teresa. I love you and I'll love our child." He held his hand over his phone. "Pregnancy hormones!"

Cho actually grinned, just as they pulled up to the house. He got out quickly, although not nearly as quickly as Jane, who was already at the front door. He followed more slowly, wanting to give the couple a few minutes with one another. He still couldn't quite believe that the two of them were married, let alone having a child together. He couldn't wait to see what the kid would be like in a few years. It would certainly have some powerful genes to contend with.

"Teresa?" Jane slammed open the door to find an empty house. "_Teresa_!" he yelled.

"Upstairs", she called down. "I'm just -" silence ensued while he took the stairs three at a time. He barely noticed the pain in his thighs from all the exercise from today.

"Teresa?" He found her in their bedroom, her pants in her hand and tears on her face.

"I can't get them on", she cried.

"Here", he told her gently, kneeled down in front of her. "Let me help you."

She sniffed and nodded. "I can't bend Patrick. I'm so huge and the contractions hurt and we're going to have a baby and I'm scared and happy both."

"Me too", he laughed as he gently helped pull her pants up her legs. "Let's stand you up and then we should go."

She nodded and allowed him to help her stand and pull up her pants the rest of the way. She sniffed again. "I'm sorry", she began to cry.

He leaned back and looked at her with a frown. "What for?"

"For sending you away today. I know you just wanted to be with me and look after me and I'm so sorry. I was a total bitch!"

"You were not," he laughed. "And I was driving you crazy."

"You were okay at work?" she asked with a hiccup.

"No – I drove everyone crazy there too. Cho finally took me to the gym."

"To the _gym_? _You_?"

"Hey, don't look so shocked. I'm not _that_ out of shape."

"I didn't say you were. I just have never imagined you working ou -W!" She clutched him tightly and panted while she rode out the next contraction. "That really hurt", she told him tearfully.

"Let's go. Time to get you to the hospital." He helped her downstairs and then ran up quickly to get her bag. Cho was waiting by the door and held on to her until Jane returned.

"Hi Teresa. How are you?"

She laughed at that. "Having a baby I guess."

He smiled. "Good for you. I'll drive you guys to the hospital."

"Thanks Cho", she said.

They were both soon in the back seat of the car and Jane stuck close as he helped her deal with more contractions on the way. His heart was beating so hard he worried it would jump out of his chest, but he kept it together for Teresa's sake. At one point he'd caught Cho's eyes in the rearview mirror and felt warmed by the nod and look of approval given to him by the usually steely agent.

"We're here", Kimball announced. "I'll go park the car and then I can call people if you want?"

"Thank you", Teresa told him as she was helped from the car into a waiting wheelchair. "That would be – oh damn, here it comes."

"Thank you Cho", Jane said softly. "I – appreciate everything more than you know."

The other man shrugged. "Take it easy and good luck. I know things will be great."

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as Teresa was checked in to a room and Jane filled out all the forms. By the time he made it to the delivery suite he was shaking with reaction. He paused in front of the door and took a deep breath, pulling out all his training to calm himself down. She didn't need to see him like this. She needed him calm and in control and – oh shit but he was having a baby!

He leant over and started to hyperventilate, the fear reaching up and gripping his heart – and his stomach – in tight coils. He couldn't do this. He couldn't watch her in pain. And what if there was something wrong? What if -"

"You can go in Mr. Jane", a nurse opened the door and smiled at him. "Your wife wants to see you. She's doing just fine."

He swallowed and quickly regulated his breathing. He could do this. He was a conman at heart, wasn't he? He could make her believe he was just fine, that he could handle –

"Oh, my poor darling", she cried, holding out her hand to him. "I'm fine Patrick and so is the baby. Every is going to be okay."

And suddenly here she was, comforting _him_. He felt ridiculous and guilty and soaked up the love she gave as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close – or at least as close as she could with basketball Jane in the way.

He felt her stomach become hard and knew another contraction was on the way. Instantly he shifted from the one receiving to the one giving comfort. His fears calmed once more as he reached out to help her and support her. He _could_ do this – for her he could do anything.

"So, how was the gym?" she asked breathlessly, as the contraction subsided.

He laughed, although it was shakier than he would have liked. He rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying to surreptitiously get rid of the sweat. "It was fine. We should get one of those machines for our house."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm. I need to stay healthy if I'm going to keep up with a little Jane."

She smiled. "I'm sure your son or daughter will appreciate that."

"I was talking about you", he said with a straight face.

She swatted him, causing him to grin. Teresa's swats were one of the ways she showed affection and he usually appreciated them – unless she was severely irritated and then they just hurt.

The contractions were coming hard and fast and Teresa talked less and concentrated more. He helped support her, rubbed her back, held her glass and gave her small snacks. She persevered like the amazing, brave woman she was.

At one point the pain grew so bad he wanted to cry himself. Instead he began speaking to her in a low voice, telling her to relax, to think of the baby, to be calm.

"Are you trying to hypnotize me?" she asked him quizzically.

"Is it working?" he'd grinned.

"A bit – keep trying."

In the end it had helped, a little. She'd calmed down and was able to ride out the pain more easily. For once he was truly grateful for his skills.

"You're doing great Teresa", he told her, both love and awe in his voice. "You're so strong and amazing!"

"You're just – saying that", she panted, "so I don't rip out your testicles for getting me into this."

He laughed, although he looked a little worried as well. The maternity nurse who was there gave him a wink.

"I hate to tell you this Teresa, but you were an equal partner in making this happen."

"Yes, but _you_ don't have to have a basketball squeeze through your vagina as a result!"

"Uh – no," he agreed, with a soft 'thank God I don't have one', on the side. "But I have had to -," he swallowed the next words, realizing that he really _did_ like his testicles and planned to keep them so saying any more would not be wise.

"You've had to – _what_?" she asked suspiciously. Fortunately – for him – another contraction hit and he didn't have to answer that. Instead he bathed her face with a cool cloth and allowed her to break all the fingers in his hand. Once she was done he shook it out, but wiped the look of pain off his face the moment her gaze returned to him.

"Thank you", she said softly.

"What for?" he asked with a smile.

"For this. For loving me, for being here with me, for giving me a child."

His smile grew wobbly and he leaned forward and rested his head gently on hers. "No – don't thank me. Thank_ you_. I'm the one who's lucky to have your love and for the fact that you didn't go to DC but decided to stay and take a chance on me. And as for giving you a child – we did it together Lisbon." He smiled and kissed her softly. "It's our child – our baby. _Thank you_."

"I love you Patrick Jaaaa – ne – oh _crap!_ I want to push! Damn it Jane – get the nurse, _NOW."_

He pulled the cord and then ran to the door, almost running into the doctor who was just coming in.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"She says she has to push."

"That's good. Just let me take a quick look Teresa and see if you're ready to go."

"I'm ready all right!" his beautiful, amazing, wonderful, _determined_ wife announced.

He held her hand as the doctor examined her, wishing he could take away some of her pain but knowing this was one time that he could do little. He hated seeing her like this, even though – paradoxically - it was the most beautiful sight in the world. She was his wife and she was having his child.

It was almost impossible for him to believe that the journey he'd been on for so many years had brought him to this point. He had never expected this but had been sure that once he'd gotten his revenge his life would be over. Instead, a whole new life had started.

It wasn't without pain – _he_ wasn't without pain and knew he never would be, not completely. But along with it there was joy and anticipation and the pure wonder of the love of a good woman. There was the hope and excitement of watching a child grow and loving it – and there was terror – the terror that something could go wrong, that he could again lose it all.

But he refused to think about that right now. Instead he wanted to feel the wonder and happiness of this moment. He wanted to live, now that he knew he was once more loved by a good and strong woman.

"Okay – it's time to push Teresa."

He helped her sit up and prepare herself for one of the most physically demanding things she would ever do. Suddenly he felt calm and he gave her his biggest smile. "You can do this", he whispered.

She nodded. "With you – I can do anything."

Teresa pushed for over half an hour, at times complaining that she was too tired, that she had changed her mind and didn't want to have a baby. He'd laughed at that, although silently, knowing she'd probably burst into tears if she heard him.

She was rather endearing like this and he knew this was a memory he'd keep in his memory palace. Not her being in pain – but that she was no longer the cool, in control agent. Instead she was all woman – glorious, beautiful, strong woman.

"Here it comes Teresa", the doctor smiled. "Patrick, would you like to catch your child?"

He opened his mouth to say no. He'd screw it up – he'd do something wrong – he'd hurt the baby. But one look at Teresa, and the look of love and confidence and he nodded. "Okay."

Watching as his child descended into his hands was something he would never be able to describe so he didn't even try. Instead he simply allowed the moment to be seared into his soul. For the first time since the loss of his daughter and wife he believed. He believed that life _could_ conquer death, that there was always hope and that a tiny child could redeem a man who thought himself irredeemable.

He felt the warm, soft and wet little body land softly into his hands. He grasped it gently, his whole being consumed with a fierce and abiding love for this little child. He couldn't help but simply stare at it for a few seconds, the wonder of it driving all thought and all action from him.

Just then there was a small cry and he smiled as the tears ran down his cheeks. He gently placed the baby on Teresa's stomach and took her hand and placed it on the baby's back. "Say hi to our son Teresa", he whispered.

The two of them watched, in wonder, as the tiny child – with thick black hair, which stood out straight from his head, and silver eyes, immediately searched for his mother's breast. He latched on, his hand curled tightly around his father's finger.

"He's beautiful", Teresa said, wonder in her voice. "He looks like you."

"He has your hair", the loving father commented, his eyes never leaving his son.

"I was hoping for curls", she said with a sigh.

"Too young for that", Patrick said with a smile. He reached out and carefully, softly stroked the velvet cheek. The little boy's eyes were beginning to close, although he still suckled energetically. "He's hungry."

"_Just_ like his father. Although I'm going to make sure he's a coffee drinker."

"I think it's a bit early to be worrying about that." He leaned forward and whispered to his son. "Tea is _much_ better."

"Everything looks great Teresa", the doctor said kindly once the afterbirth had been delivered. "Let me take a quick look at the baby and then you can get cleaned up. I hear there are some people in the waiting room as well."

Jane looked up in surprise. "Really?"

"Mmm hmm", the doctor grinned. "A bunch of FBI agents from what I hear. Scared the pants off the nursing staff."

Once baby Jane had been cleaned, weighed (7lbs 8 oz), measured (21 inches) and dressed his father took him. He sat and stared at the little boy who was still awake and who was looking blearily at the face above him.

He didn't know what to think at that moment. All he could do was feel. He felt – clean. It was as if this little body had washed away the years of hatred and vengeance and guilt and hopelessness that had lived within him. Oh, he knew that Teresa had started the process – her trust and friendship and then her love had also cleansed him – but not completely. That had needed the birth of an innocent child. That had needed new life – to cancel out the old.

He lifted his son up until his cheek was touching the little boy's. The tears again flowed from his eyes, anointing his son. "I love you little one", he whispered. He then lowered the baby and looked at his wife – who was smiling, but also had tears flowing down her cheeks. "Thank you", he said softly, seriously. "This is – the best gift I could ever receive." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. "I love you Teresa Lisbon-Jane."

"Good, because I feel the same way", she smiled. At that moment the baby let out a soft cry, as if he was missing his parents' attention. Teresa and Patrick looked down at him and smiled.

All Jane could think was that this was what it meant to be truly happy.

_**Epilogue to follow. Name plus meeting the rest of the family!**_


	41. Of Happiness Epilogue

"You have to admit it's perfect", Jane told her as he continued to hold his son.

"Yes, but what if it changes?" she asked, reaching out and touching the tiny fist. "He could lose it all and go blond like you."

"Unlikely", he told her. "Chances are he'll stay dark, like you."

"So I'm not getting my blond, curly-headed little boy?" she sighed.

"Well, you have me," he grinned.

"Yes, and you do often act like a little boy so I guess that will have to do."

"So, you agree? It's perfect. And hey, it's Irish."

"It matters to you that he has an Irish name?"

"I wouldn't say it _matters_ exactly – but it does go nicely with Jane. And you have to admit, it's perfect."

"For now."

"You have such little faith Teresa. He's going to have dark hair so it's _perfect._"

"Well, I do like the sound of it."

"So we're agreed?"

"Yes, I guess we are. It _is_ perfect." She smiled and looked down at her son, gently stroking his soft baby face. He was finally asleep after having nursed and spent he first half hour of his life getting to know his parents. "It's a big name for a little boy to live up to", she said softly.

"He'll do fine", Jane said, "especially with you as his mother."

Jane smiled down at his son and then leaned over and kissed him on his forehead. "Hello Ciaran* Thomas Lisbon Jane. Welcome to the world."

"You should take him out and show him to everyone. They're probably wondering what's going on", his tired but happy wife told him.

Excited about showing off his son – his _son – _he made his way carefully to the waiting area, his face split wide into a big grin. He couldn't help it if he felt wonderfully, gloriously pleased with himself. He had a baby boy who was now the most precious thing in his life, along with Teresa of course.

As he looked at the little one in his arms he had a passing thought that he was relieved they hadn't had a girl. He felt a moment's guilt at the thought but then let it go. He would have loved a daughter, that he knew without a doubt. But it would have been more difficult to deal with the emotions of remembering when Charlotte was born. "I'll tell you about your big sister, some day", he whispered. He turned his mind back to the present as he caught sight of his team all sitting in the waiting area.

It was Wylie who saw him first. The young man stood, a big smile on his face. "You had the baby!"

"We did", Patrick grinned. Vega, Cho, Abbott and Wylie all rushed up to him and circled round so they could see the new arrival.

"What was it?" Vega asked, excitedly.

"Well, it _was_ a boy. I expect it still is."

"Ow!" What was it about women in law enforcement? They seemed to think his upper arm was _made_ to be thwacked. "What did you do that for?"

"For being ridiculous. Now let me see him." She reached out and after a brief hesitation he handed over the baby. It's not that he was worried about her holding him, it was that he really didn't want to let go of his little miracle.

"What's his name?" Abbott asked.

"Ciaran Thomas", he smiled.

"Nice", Cho nodded. "Goes well with Jane."

"We thought it suited him", Jane looked at the baby, a besotted expression on his face. "It means dark one."

The others exchanged smiles, unused to seeing Jane looking quite so open and just plain happy.

"Congratulations Patrick", Dennis grasped his shoulder. "He's beautiful."

"Takes after Teresa", Cho said, but he stepped forward and actually gave Jane a 'man-hug'. "Congratulations."

"Uh" – Jane looked surprised, which made the others laugh. Cho had never done anything like that before. "Thanks." He surreptitiously – or so he hoped – sniffed. He wasn't used to such open affection from anyone other than Teresa – and sometimes Grace and Wayne. "Come on – Teresa wants to see everyone." He smiled as he led them to her room.

* * *

Ciaran was a happy baby and Teresa took well to motherhood. Jane wasn't surprised. She'd mothered her three younger brothers – and him at times, if he was being honest. She was a caring, compassionate woman – and someone who loved with a fierce loyalty. He knew Ciaran couldn't have done better for his mother.

Now as for his father – Jane sighed. He figured Ciaran hadn't really lucked out there. He was damaged in so many ways – and had enough baggage to fill a ship. Still, he loved his wife with a fierce passion and now his son. If love could make things right – if love could help heal him and make a good life for those he loved – then he knew there was hope.

At that moment Teresa appeared, the baby sleeping in her arms. "You okay?" she asked taking note of his sad expression. She still worried about him and knew that there were times when he would sink into a dark place beyond her ability to help. Still, those times came more rarely now and at least he opened up to her about them – at least a bit. She knew he would always live with the memories of what had happened to his first family, but she prayed that she and Ciaran could help take away the pain.

"I'm fine." He leaned over and kissed her and then Ciaran. The little boy didn't even move, so deep was he in the innocent sleep of childhood.

"He takes after you", his wife informed him. "He's hard to get to sleep and even harder to wake up."

Jane grinned and the sadness seemed to drain away from his face. "He's a smart boy, just like his Daddy."

Teresa snorted. "More like lots of trouble just like his Daddy!"

"And you wouldn't have it any other way!"

She sighed and shook her head, but then her eyes grew soft. "You're right", she whispered. "I wouldn't."

* * *

He sat in his car, Ciaran burbling away in the back seat. He had known this would be hard, but was now wondering if it was _too_ hard, if he should have let this go. He hadn't been back here since that day and had been positive he would never get the chance to come back.

But he knew he had to do this. It was sad really – he'd only visited their graves a couple of times in all the years since their deaths. The first time had been with Danny and it had affected him so deeply it had been almost impossible to return. Now he wanted to be here – at least he'd thought so before arriving.

Oh, he knew they weren't there. He still didn't believe in an afterlife – although he wasn't quite as adamant about at as he had been before. But those things didn't matter. He had, through the years, talked regularly with Angela although that had stopped after he'd dreamt of her – and now that he was committed to Lisbon. But he always felt connected to her even though logically he had known she was gone.

But this wasn't about logic. He turned to the back seat at Ciaran's excited squeal. The little boy had just seen a dog go by and he loved animals. Jane wondered briefly when it would be time to consider getting a puppy. He smiled when he imagined Teresa's reaction to _that _idea.

He finally gathered his courage and got out of the car. He next unbuckled the baby, who was grinning wildly at being out with one of his two favorite people in the whole world.

Ciaran was eight months old now and he and Teresa had decided to take a short holiday out to California. He'd finally decided to look into selling his house in Malibu. They could invest the money either in a bigger house in Austin, or buy themselves a small holiday home by the ocean. He was leaning towards the latter. They could dock their boat and spend wonderful times together as a family.

Teresa was back at their hotel resting and he'd offered to take Ciaran out for a drive. It was only as they grew near the cemetery that he realized he had something he needed to do.

He walked slowly through the gravestones, his eyes focused on the two he was about to visit. Ciaran continued to babble away, taking pleasure in everything around him.

Jane held him a little tighter, needing the comfort and courage that the warm little body gave him. Ciaran had brought even more light and joy into his life over what Teresa had already brought. He kissed the baby on the cheek, causing him to giggle and lean forward so that his face was touching his father's. Jane laughed and kissed him again. God – how did he ever get to be so lucky?

He finally stopped in front of the two gravestones, his mind suddenly overwhelmed by a thousand thoughts and feelings. A profound sadness washed over him as he saw those names carved in stone. The loss came rushing back, drowning him, smothering him. His family – the two he'd loved most in the world, were no more. All that was left of them were these two stones. He closed his eyes, a river of anguish and tears running down his face. "I'm sorry", he whispered.

"_Da!"_ The voice of a small child sounded a few minutes later and pulled him out of his torment. His eyes flew open and he stared at his son.

"What did you say?"

The baby laughed and bounced. "Da." He reached out and patted Jane's cheek with his tiny fist.

The tears ran faster down Patrick's face, but this time they were cleansing tears, tears of gratitude and hope, joy and healing. Yes, he would always grieve the loss of Angela and Charlotte but he couldn't forget what he now had, _who_ he now had.

With a small, broken laugh he turned to face the gravestones. "Angela, Charlotte", he said softly. "I want you to meet my son, Ciaran."

THE END

_**Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to read and review. You made my first foray into The Mentalist fanfic lots of fun. Now we all wait with bated breath for Nov 30**__**th**__** (and the hope that another network might pick up the show!)**_

_***Ciaran - prounounced Keeran - is Irish for 'little dark one'. Forgive me if you hate the name - it's impossible to pick something everyone would like.**_


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